#opulence vol.5

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: August

August, eighth month of the Gregorian calendar.

It was named for the first Roman emperor, Augustus Caesar, in 8 bce.

Recorded from Old English, the name comes from Latin augustus ‘consecrated, venerable’.

Its original name was Sextilus, Latin for “sixth month,” indicating its position in the early Roman calendar.

One of the earliest evidence for august is from 1594, in a translation by Robert Ashley, translator and book collector.

August is of multiple origins. Partly a borrowing from French. Partly a borrowing from Latin.

As an adjective

1. [1594-] Inspiring or worthy of respect (originally on account of birth or position in society); impressively eminent or respected; imposing, reverend, worshipful. Sometimes as an honorific epithet.

"To mingle with a body so august." —Lord Byron, Two Foscari iv. i, in Sardanapalus 259

"We have a human sufferer in Him—the augustest indeed that ever shared our flesh and blood." —R. C. Trench, Sermons in Westminster Abbey xiv. 152

"I would happily relax my hold if you honorably promise to accompany me to my august superior whom I unworthily serve." —H. H. Skinner, Jiu-jitsu 40

2. [1602-] Inspiring reverence and admiration; impressing the emotions or imagination as magnificent; solemnly grand, stately, majestic.

"The funeral was long remembered as the saddest and most august that Westminster had ever seen." —T. B. Macaulay, History of England vol. IV. 534

"[It] renews its ancient glance with an auguster beauty." —J. Martineau, Essays Philosophical & Theological 2nd Series 149

"Little open emotion was evident in the august halls of the Court." —B. Doherty, Gun Control on Trial vi. 110

3. Having great importance and respect in society 4. Marked by majestic dignity or grandeur

Synonyms & related words

baronial, colossus, cosmical, dignified, distingué, exalted, formidable, Homeric, magisterial, opulent, palatine, pantheon, personage, redoubtable, resplendent, splendiferous, titan, uncrowned

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases Mar. 4, 2025

Asumi-chan is Interested in Lesbian Brothels! (manga) vol. 5 by Kuro Itsuki

Asumi’s search in lesbian brothels for her childhood crush, Mai, has led to a date with her roommate Nanao. A visit to the aquarium leads to a romantic Ferris wheel ride, followed by a…love hotel? Things get steamy and feelings grow more complicated as a new relationship blossoms!

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation: Mo Dao Zu Shi (manhua) vol. 9 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu with art by Luo Di Cheng Qiu

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng narrowly escaped death in the depths of Xuanwu Cave—only to once again suffer misfortune when Lotus Pier is assaulted by agents of the Wen Clan. Severely wounded in the attack, Jiang Cheng loses his golden core, the source of much of his power as a cultivator. Yet there is hope. Some Wen Clan members are willing to lend a helping hand, hiding them from those who would seek their death. Now that he’s just like any other mortal, Jiang Cheng resolves to set out on an arduous journey to find a cultivation master who can help restore his golden core…but a quest such as that will take him away from Wei Wuxian and their childhood home for a long time indeed. Apart, who can say where their respective paths may lead?

Lycoris Recoil (manga) vol. 2 by Spider Lily with art by Yasunori Bizen

When an escort job arrives from the genius hacker walnut, Chisato and Takina’s morals are put to the test! Chisato firmly believes that all life is valuable—whether someone is a friend or foe. Meanwhile, Takina is completely baffled by Chisato’s sentiment. When tensions rise and arguments break out, can they overcome their differences and complete their mission…?!

My Beautiful Man (manga) vol. 3 by Yuu Nagira with art by Megumi Kitano

Hira remains stuck at the bottom of his high school’s social pyramid. Meanwhile, Kiyoi begins his journey into fame as a model. Less frequent are the beautiful days spent together in empty classrooms. Just as Hira relents to a fate of drifting further apart from his king, Kiyoi gives him a parting kiss on graduation day. But when Hira’s phone breaks, he decided to take it as a sign to let Kiyoi go and never see him again. After starting college, Hira leads a surprisingly peaceful life, working hard to leave his painful yet beautiful memories of Kiyoi in the past. He is doing pretty well, too… until he comes face to face with Kiyoi once again.

World’s End Blue Bird (manga) vol. 3 by Anji Seina

In this world, society is split in two: Twilight City, the slums, and Paradiso, a city of opulence and wealth. Guang, having taken up the role of sorcerer and ruler of this land, must face a secret his family has harbored for generations – that their forefather, Prometheus, holds the heart of all sorcerers and bestows on them a deadly curse. Refusing to let this stand, Guang takes Ray with him into the depths of Paradiso, in hopes that together they can find a solution for this cure, as well as a future for all.

[paralleljulieverse]

This Week in Julie History: Coronation Night Gala Supper Dance and All-Star Cabaret, Cumberland Hotel, 2 June 1953

Seventy years ago, in June 1953, London pulsated with the exhilarating energy of Coronation Week. Just as witnessed during the recent ascension of King Charles, crowds thronged the flag-bedecked streets of the capital, hearts ablaze with patriotic pride, waiting for a glimpse of their new young Queen Elizabeth II.  Numerous celebrations filled the Coronation Week of 1953, ranging from quaint neighbourhood street parties to grand, opulent balls. Almost every hotel and restaurant across the city curated special coronation-themed events. Among these, the Cumberland Hotel, located in the upscale Marble Arch district, offered a notable highlight with a magnificent Gala Supper Dance and Dinner. 

Tickets for the gala were priced at 5 gns—approximately £200 in today's terms—so it was clearly a high-end affair. But for their money, guests were indulged with a gourmet six-course supper featuring suitably coronation-themed dishes such as Le blanc de poularde Reine Elizabeth -- Queen Elizabeth chicken breast -- served with Windsor Pearls and Royal Potatoes. Enhancing the experience, guests were also treated to a cocktail on arrival, half-bottle of vintage champagne and after-supper liqueurs.

A superbly curated All-Star Cabaret performance served as a delightful accompaniment to the evening's supper. Compered by celebrated magician, Billy McComb, it featured a line-up of top variety entertainers including comedian Reg Dixon; radio impressionist Peter Cavanagh, the singing duo, Jack and Daphne Barker, and ‘Britain’s youngest soprano’, Julie Andrews.

That Julie was contracted as one of the gala’s headliners attests to her rising professional stock in the era. Now aged 17, she was fast moving beyond the child star persona of her early career and events such as this cabaret marked a pivot to a more mature and sophisticated style.

Unfortunately, as she relates in the first volume of her memoirs, Julie didn’t actually make it to the Cumberland Hotel that night due to a car breakdown:

“There were many glamourous events and galas during the time of the coronation, and my mother and I were invited to perform one evening at a hotel on Park Lane. We set off in Bettina, our trusty car. There was a low bridge on the way to London, where the road took a huge dip. We were decked out in our best attire, and as happens so often in England, it was simply teeming with rain. Ahead of us, under the bridge, was a vast body of water. “Oh, just plow through it,” I advised Mum. “If we go fast enough, we ’ll come out the other side.” Mum gunned the engine, and Bettina came to a hissing stop right in the middle of the pool. Her motor had completely flooded. Dressed in our finery, we waded out of the deep water and stumbled to a garage to ask for the car to be towed to safety. We never did make the concert” (2008, 154).

There is no record of how Julie’s absence was conveyed to the crowd at the Cumberland or what their response was...but we’d have been crying into our five guinea half-bottle of vintage champagne!

Sources:

Andrews, Julie (2008). Home: A memoir of my early years. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Bartlett School (2023). Survey of London: Vol 11 Histories of Oxford Street. Bartlett School of Architecture, University College London.

Cumberland Hotel (1953). A souvenir of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. London.

Evening Standard, 27 April 1953: 2.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2023

[solisjetflights]

5 Des Meilleures Destinations De Ski En Europe – Voyage En Jet Privé

Si vous êtes un passionné de ski et que vous avez un goût prononcé pour le luxe, vous allez être comblé. Dans ce voyage exaltant à travers les merveilles enneigées de l’Europe, nous explorerons cinq des meilleures destinations de ski qui non seulement enflammeront votre passion pour les pistes, mais élèveront aussi votre expérience de voyage à de nouveaux sommets – littéralement ! Alors que nous nous lançons dans cette aventure, gardez à l’esprit qu’il ne s’agit pas d’un voyage de ski classique, mais d’une plongée dans le monde du voyage d’élite par le biais de l’affrètement d’un jet privé. Alors, attachez vos ceintures, car nous sommes sur le point de décoller pour une escapade enneigée et de haut vol sans précédent.

Que vous soyez un skieur chevronné ou que vous cherchiez simplement à découvrir la magie des montagnes, ces destinations de ski européennes vous laisseront à coup sûr bouche bée, tant par les paysages à couper le souffle que par le voyage luxueux qui vous y conduira. Préparez-vous à découvrir un tout nouveau niveau de ski en découvrant les joyaux cachés des Alpes, des Pyrénées et d’ailleurs. Il est temps de skier comme un VIP au cœur des terrains de jeu enneigés de l’Europe.

Courchevel, France :

Courchevel, nichée dans les Alpes françaises, est réputée pour son opulence et ses conditions de ski exceptionnelles. Faisant partie du vaste domaine skiable des Trois Vallées, elle offre un éventail de pistes adaptées à tous les niveaux. Courchevel se distingue par ses équipements luxueux, notamment ses chalets haut de gamme, ses restaurants étoilés et ses boutiques de créateurs. Voyager ici en jet privé garantit un voyage fluide et élégant, donnant le ton à votre retraite montagnarde haut de gamme.

Saint-Moritz, Suisse :

Moritz, située au cœur des Alpes suisses, respire l’élégance et la sophistication. C’est une destination privilégiée par l’élite pour son atmosphère chic, ses stations de ski de classe mondiale et ses possibilités de shopping haut de gamme. Les pistes de ski autour de St. Moritz offrent un mélange de pistes difficiles et de terrains plus détendus, ce qui en fait une destination idéale pour les skieurs expérimentés comme pour les novices. Arriver en jet privé permet non seulement de gagner du temps, mais aussi d’ajouter un niveau de luxe supplémentaire à votre expérience de St.Moritz

Kitzbühel, Autriche :

Kitzbühel, ville autrichienne pittoresque, s’enorgueillit d’un riche patrimoine skiable. Elle est peut-être surtout connue pour la course de descente du Hahnenkamm, l’une des plus difficiles du monde du ski. Au-delà des pentes qui font monter l’adrénaline, le centre-ville médiéval de Kitzbühel respire le charme et l’histoire. Voyager ici en jet privé vous donne la liberté d’adapter votre itinéraire et de profiter de transferts en douceur vers ce joyau autrichien.

Zermatt, Suisse :

Zermatt est un joyau suisse qui a pour toile de fond l’emblématique montagne du Cervin. Zermatt se distingue par son engagement à préserver l’environnement, ce qui en fait un village sans voiture. Le ski y est exceptionnel, avec une variété de terrains adaptés à tous les niveaux. L’affrètement d’un jet privé à destination de Zermatt garantit un voyage confortable et sans stress, vous permettant de vous immerger totalement dans le paysage alpin époustouflant.

Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, France :

Chamonix-Mont-Blanc est une Mecque pour les skieurs et snowboarders avancés. Située dans les Alpes françaises, elle offre des terrains difficiles et des vues à couper le souffle sur le Mont Blanc, le plus haut sommet d’Europe occidentale. Au-delà du ski, Chamonix est un havre pour les alpinistes et les amateurs de plein air. Opter pour un affrètement de jet privé à destination de Chamonix garantit une expérience de voyage flexible, afin que vous puissiez tirer le meilleur parti de votre aventure dans ce paradis alpin.

L’Europe offre un éventail de destinations de ski exceptionnelles, chacune avec son propre charme et ses propres attractions. Que vous soyez attiré par l’ambiance haut de gamme de Courchevel, l’élégance de Saint-Moritz, la riche tradition de ski de Kitzbühel, la conscience environnementale de Zermatt ou la beauté sauvage de Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, il y a une retraite alpine parfaite pour chaque voyageur exigeant.

Voyager vers ces destinations en jet privé ajoute une couche supplémentaire de luxe et de commodité à votre expérience du ski. Non seulement vous gagnez du temps, mais votre voyage se déroule sans encombre, ce qui vous permet de vous concentrer sur le plaisir des pistes et la beauté des paysages environnants.

Quelle que soit la destination de ski européenne que vous choisissez et la manière dont vous vous y rendez, une chose est sûre : vous vivrez une aventure hivernale inoubliable dans certains des cadres montagneux les plus époustouflants du monde. Que vous soyez un skieur chevronné ou un novice, les stations de ski européennes ont quelque chose à offrir à chacun, ce qui en fait un choix de premier ordre pour les escapades hivernales. Préparez-vous donc à dévaler les pistes, à savourer une cuisine gastronomique et à profiter de la splendeur des Alpes européennes lors de votre prochain voyage au ski en jet privé.

[imasimpforstevengrant]

THRICE

Summary: Layla needs Marc to tell her the truth about the months he went missing. Steven convinces Marc that this will heal their relationship but the ghosts of unworthiness and guilt still haunt his mind.

Warnings: (past) trauma, (past) abusive parenting/child abuse, death, mentions of death, loss, mental illness, violent behaviour, sensitive topics, angst and comfort, swearing, protectiveness, DID, fluff, sexual tension, sexual themes, unsafe sex, absolute, self indulgent smut with feelings.

WC: 8.929

Note¹: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. I hope this makes up for the time I didn't post anything. Some of the lines and scenes, much like in previous and future chapters, are taken from:

• Moon Knight vol 1, issues #1, #3, #5, #7, #10, #35

Note²: I had to rewrite, correct and post this three times, since I didn't like the first draft. I read a theory that states Layla didn't know Steven because she was the only person who made Marc happy, so I wrote this to explore the idea. I love the idea of Layla knowing (and eventually falling in love with) Steven, as a healthy way to love Marc in his wholeness.

Note³: This chapter is absolute self indulgent, filth... but I couldn't help it. Marc/Steven deserve so much after all they went through. I hope you enjoy this just as I did writing it. Sorry for any typos. English is not my native language. Thank you for the kudos!

---

SECOND PART

A Beacon of Hope (Steven)

For most people, the sun would be a solace against the coldness of rain. For Marc Spector, however, the cold means freshness after the searing heat of Egypt. But everything seems perfect when he's not conscious. Marc would think about it as another little tragedy in the long list of misfortunes in his life. It's something Steven Grant would agree with him without a doubt.

The alarm clock has been turned off. The calming sound of rain pouring engulfed him in a profound state of relaxation. This is the best part of redemption. And freedom too. A slight frown forms when a soft, humming sound vibrates through his skin. It's impactful enough for Marc to open his eyes to see the origin of this rare moment of poise and comfort. Thick, curly locks tickled his face-

The sweat gluing their skins together was arousing enough to set his heart on a crazed gallop, shortening his breath. Layla lies in front of him, sleeping with a serenity that Marc loved to watch during sleepless nights. Though he longed for  warmth, he resists the impulse to claim her body again, but he's too afraid to disturb her sleep. Layla understood the need to remind himself that he wasn't a tool, but a human. 

That was the only good part after bathing himself in blood. He could remember the first time they made love. It wasn't too long after Layla had offered herself to go undercover as am exotic dancer in a secret group of dangerous assassins. She played her part perfectly, even letting herself touch by an old creep that happened to be the leader of the murderous committee. 

Marc was watching them from afar, furiously. They weren't even a thing at that point, though he could see her shy smiles whenever he flirted with her as much as she tried to hide it.  Having known isolation and lovelessness so close, the moment when that man dared to lay his hands on her, awoke in his chest a burning jealousy. He would never let anyone take her away from him, but he needed to think coldly now. 

To earn the trust of the leader, Layla performs a sensual, elegant dance before him and the results are splendid. The leader reveals all the info they needed to get rid of every member of the criminal committee. But it has its costs, as Layla had become the object of his impudent manners. He tries to lay her down the blue, opulent couch to quench his desires as she stares at him from the window, claiming for help. 

The man catches a glimpse of her looking outside, and lands a painful, loud slap on her face at her betrayal. But his harsh, tough manners crumble when an inhuman, ghastly howl that appalled not only him, but her too. Marc doesn't think twice to attack him with enraged fists, which soon became reddish, gushing with blood. Layla stays away, observing with amazement how that man, that presence, who seemed so cold and inhuman, protects her with such choleric fury. 

Suddenly a feeling of desire fires up her chest, unleashing a wild gallop in her heart. Marc just attacks, roaring like a beast… until Layla begs him to stop, that he's not a murderer. Marc suddenly comes back to his senses, with a blooded moon dart still in hand. Layla gathered enough information to keep assisting Marc, who took her away from the place, securing her in a room where she could change her clothes. The committee had been responsible for many crimes in Egypt, one of them being stealing relics in the black market after raiding tombs. All of them were American, though that was the least of his concerns. 

They had a reunion with the other members in an abandoned warehouse. Many noticed the leader's absence, which immediately set suspicion. That was the best part of it. 

With the rest of the committee on guard, Marc emerged from the dark. Everyone thought it was a madman in a disguise… until they realized bullets didn't stop him. Convinced they were before the presence of a ghost, many of them give in to panic. Marc was grateful that Layla wasn't there to behold the bloodshed. For his part, Khonshu was delighted. The deity praises Marc, who does not feel proud at all. There's one agonizing bastard staring up to him, with his face contorted by the most tenebrous expression of horror Marc had seen in his whole life.

As he reaches the place where Layla was hiding, he takes her and flies with her to a quieter place: her home. 

The armor soon vanishes, leaving him with his usual outfit: a brown jacket, gray pants and a blue sweatshirt. Only the blood serves as a vestige of his deed, making Layla worried about him. She takes a few rags, cleaning the blood, though Marc reassures her that he's fine. A cold shower would do. Once in the bath, Marc takes off his clothes. The sound of water falling suddenly triggers the memory of that fatal day. Spector shuts his eyelids, stopping the flow of water. The shower is short, and trying to forget the faces of those he murdered, Spector looks for slumber. 

"Marc?" 

Before he finds the bed, he finds something more alluring. Once he turns around, his eyes behold a seductive, sultry Layla from the door sill. Marc is bewitched by her nakedness, those curves, that expression in her face. Awestruck, Marc feels incapable of speaking. Layla giggles. She steps forward but the vigilante is faster: the sexual act demanded for no other clothes except their bare skins. In seconds, both become a mess of entangled limbs on the wall. Layla whispers her gratitude for saving her, while Marc quickly works his way to pleasure her. 

How he wished to freeze that moment, specially when her gentle arms cradle his figure as both drift to slumber after their act. The sweet memory of their first night together blurs with the present, as he feels her soft breathing against his face. Fascinated by the fact he was being desired and loved even in the quietest silence, Marc caressed her face. He marvels at her freckles, that flawless skin under his fingers, mouth agape and disheveled hair falling down her face… he had to repress the impulse to wake her up, seduce her, making her come over and over with his mouth just to make her full of himself again. 

The stillness is no impediment to feel her naked form lost in his limbs. Her arms latch to his neck, as if her life depends on it. The same occurs with one leg tangling on his thigh. In a passionate outburst, the former mercenary takes Layla much closer to him, lustfully smelling her neck. It made him forget the horrors of the world, finally tasting how a normal life with Layla would be if he wasn't under the servitude of an obscure deity. 

“Marc.” Spector opens his eyes, frowning. 

“Steven?” he croaks with a thick voice, trying not to wake Layla up. By mere instinct, he looks for a reflection to glare at. But the room lacks any nearby mirrors.

"What… What happened last night?" Steven asked with a shaky voice, seemingly more fearful to wake her up than Spector himself, "why did you…"

"Not now, Steven," Marc tried to dissuade his alter, "we will discuss this later." His dry order just causes a low whine from the mild mannered man.

"Why?" Steven insists, irritating the former mercenary even more. He just sighed, undoing the embrace with Layla to get up off the bed. He put his navy blue boxers on and went to the three mirrored-dresser, facing his alter. He supports in his arms, closing his eyes before facing his reflection.

"Ease down, Steven. You're not gonna make the anxiety easier if you keep losing it," Marc finally said. The British man just let out a scoff. 

"You always said that there was a wall between us… that it takes all your willpower to be a fly on the wall… but you… you blacked out." A castdown Marc listens to what Steven has to say about the incident.  

"Why did you let me touch her? Why did you let me front when for less you threw me off a hole?" Marc can't help but let a soft chuckle out. 

"Things are different now," the former mercenary replied. Steven frowns, his glare reveals a great confusion. Marc scoffs, "you saved my marriage, Steven. With your insufferable need to tell the truth,” he finally replied. The alter waved his hands, for his tone to lower. 

"I felt she deserved to know it," Steven muttered, "she's just… she's just an awesome woman to be around…" Marc giggles, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is she?" His cheeky expression makes Steven realize the double entendre of it. 

"Hey!" He shrieks, blistering.

"Come on, Steven. Don't play innocent. I know the way you look at her, I know you couldn’t stop ogling her since you kissed her."

Steven felt like a depraved creep. 

"I don't ogle her, Marc!" He replied from the mirror, outrageous, "I never intended to be a creep around her. She wanted to kiss me because I have the face of her husband… you, but she made the first move and I wasn't going to deny her just because she's your wife."

Marc raised an eyebrow.

"If the Gods gave you a blessing, you don't reject it. Leaving Layla there, after you blacked out, would have been rude to… you know… leave the job unfinished, yeah?" 

Marc chuckles after staring at the mirror, surprising Steven with a calmness so atypical from his usual ways. Grant was smart, but he failed to notice that Spector laughed at his own, surprising sassiness. 

"It would have been a crime to leave Layla alone at that moment," Steven whispered, more to avoid those long, awkward seconds of silence between them, "I never thought that Layla… would feel like that about me, to let me touch her. I still don't believe it–" 

"Well, you better start believing it." Steven widened his eyes, mouth agape. 

"What–?"

"You wanna know something, Steven?" Marc muttered, leaning his weight on his arm, supporting himself against the door, "The walls between us have crumbled, and I didn't want to accept that." Marc took a deep breath, as Steven encouraged him to go on.  

"At first, I refused to see it but now I know that it was that same wall that prevented me from quieting the chaos in my mind." Steven nodded.

"I was jealous of her looking at you with that tenderness so typical of her, when all I got was hostility and anger from her."

"I can't blame her, mate. You lied to her and went missing. I still think you're a twit for that." Steven commented. 

"You know my reasons on why I did that and as for us, that matter is solved" Marc replied. The British nerd sighed.

"All right, go on." 

"Well, it happens that… I hadn't seen that look in her eyes since we…"

"Yes?" Steven inquires, eager to know. 

"Since she shared a poem before we became a thing."

"Wow!" Steven Grant is genuinely impressed, and comments on how he never expected Marc to be a man of poetry. Both were in the library in her home, checking a few archeological objects. Marc saw she diverted her attention to a book by a French author. His mind couldn't keep fantasizing with her lips when she was so close to him, speaking about two lovers forced to be apart. 

"She read me that poem, from Desbordes-Valmore," Steven can notice that this is something very important for Marc, as he turns to stare at a serene, sleeping Layla.

"We had our first kiss after she patiently explained to me what it was about. And I started panicking because of the way she looked at me then." Marc feels his eyes tearing up. 

"Why?" 

"I was afraid of her going to smack my face when she got up from the chair," his voice broke, "stepped closer to me and… held my head to put it on her chest.

Marc stood silent for nearly a minute, the vivid memory kept him too thoughtful in a sepulchral muteness. By instinct, he had prepared himself for what he thought was another unsparing punch, but all he does is to succumb to her gentleness. Layla is patient, and so she awaits for this breathing to ease down, softly cooing in his ear. Marc likes to hear her heartbeat, and shamelessly nuzzles her breast when Layla asks him what's going on. He doesn't say anything, delighted to glide his hands over her hips, and waist. 

"I want the same for you, Steven," Marc whispered, "Why should I keep fighting you when both of us feel the same way about Layla? The key to solving the chaos is that we coexist, Steven." The mild mannered man was flabbergasted.

"What?" He could barely manage to croak. Marc crossed his arms, to emphasize the seriousness. 

"Oy, mate…" Steven made a gesture to the former fortune soldier to go easier on him with this new idea of living in a shared marriage, "I think we need some time to think about this before taking it further."

"I made up my mind not too long ago and yet you fail to see it. My wife won't love me fully if she doesn't get to know you better, Steven!"

"Mate, mate, quiet. You'll wake her –!" Spector rolls his eyes, groaning at his stubbornness. 

"We were dead in the Duat, and the first thing you asked me was if she was going to be okay."

"But mate, you were the one who took the shot."

"And even in death, you didn't stop loving her, Steven! That proves you deserve her more than I would ever do! That's why you exist!"

Grant remembers the moment where their lives bled together. He lowered his head, saddened. Marc got away from the mirror, ashamed to reduce his alter to a mere tool to cope with his feelings. He covered his face, incapable of looking Steven in the eyes when passing by the aquarium. Spector took a bottle of whiskey and a small glass, just a few feet away from the door. 

"I'm sorry, Steven" Marc muttered, shaking his head while holding the drink, "I didn't mean–"

"Alright," Steven interrupts him, "Alright. You want me to be with Layla? Fine, I will if she also wants me… but I have one condition." Marc awaits as the reflection leans half body. 

"Tell. Her. The truth."

Marc frowned, confused. 

"What truth?" 

"About us. About me. Tell Layla about our trauma, our mother–" The last word makes Spector jump like a feline taken by surprise, glass fell, drink all poured on the wooden floor. 

"What?!" 

"The truth, Marc. I know it's hurtful for both of us, but Layla must know it," the panic starts taking over his composure, "She deserves to know it! You should be the one telling her the truth, more than me! She met you first, she loved you first–" the situation worsens when a feminine voice ceases their conversation. 

"Marc?" From his seat, he can see Layla getting up, "is everything okay?" She puts on one of Steven's sweaters, her expression is nothing but worry as she leads her steps to her troubled husband.

"No, no, baby, don't – please!" he begged, moving his hands so she could stay away from him, as if he was a leper, "I'm sorry- I don't want you to see me like this." 

"What–? 

He got up, turning to the door, though with no intentions of leaving. But Layla takes it all the wrong way. 

"I didn't want to do this in front of you," he finally says something after the tense lack of words between them. But it only creates more confusion. 

"It's okay, Marc… you can tell me." 

His eyes are stuck on the door, futilely sealed with blue adhesive tape. The excessive protection made it look cartoonish, but even like that, Layla attempts to calm him down. 

"You can trust me! Just please stop running away from me!" Her voice broke down in sobs. Marc hated that sound so much. The guilt of seeing those red, watery eyes was almost as if had made her bleed when all she did was offer compassion, patience and love to him. He gripped his hair, tightening his eyelids. Marc would never forgive himself for her deeply hurt expression in her face. How different their situation was just a few hours ago: drowning in ecstasy, screaming each other's names. Why was it that Spector never had long moments of stability or happiness? 

"Mate, I swear…" Steven hissed, furious at his passiveness, "if you run now, we lose her! Do you understand that?!" 

Marc takes a deep breath. 

"Layla isn't like our mother!" Steven screamed inside his skull, "tell her the truth and she will understand."

"Marc, please tell me something! You don't get to fuck me and leave as if nothing happened!" Layla yelled, unaware of Grant's own feud with Spector. 

"She's gonna run, Steven. She's gonna realize she married an insane, murderous bastard who can barely keep it together!" He shrieked, violently palming his head. 

Layla gasps, stepping back.

"Honey, you're scaring me…" Layla sobs, horrified. She tries again to connect, but the former mercenary refuses to give in to any display of affection, trying the best to smother the pain, leaving him unable to enjoy her adorable habit of extending her hands to hold his face or arms, whenever he felt he lost control of his emotions.

"Don't leave me…" he pleaded, voice barely audible, looking at the aquarium for Steven to help him contain him. 

"Why are you saying all those horrible things to yourself?" Layla touched his face and the result frightened her: She couldn't distinguish between her husband and her newfound British nerd, which made her hand recoil. Layla couldn't believe that this soulless, broken man was the same ghastly apparition which had inspired so much horror in criminals.

Whoever is in the body, doesn't make a move. There's no mercenary, no vigilante, not even a sad, meek loner. Just a disheveled, disoriented individual who can't stop staring at the beautiful woman, as if refusing to believe she's real. Layla extends her hand and caresses his cheek once again. 

The helplessness in Spector's face manages to be so moving, so devastating for her kind heart, that Layla cannot help but to plant a kiss in his mouth. He does consent to the caress, though he doesn't kiss her back. 

She tasted the flavor of early whiskey on him and Marc finally seemed to snap out of his trance. His lips trembled while a few shaky words left his mouth. Layla waits for it, with bated breath. As much as he hated Arthur Harrow, he can't help but agree with him about comprehension: there can't be no progress without it. 

"Please… please say something…" Layla begged, after breaking the kiss. 

"Steven…" he whispered, with eyes closed. Before Marc could say anything else in response, Layla remembers what happened between the British nerd and her in bed. 

"Oh my God, are you upset because… because I slept with him?" but Marc frowned, waving his hands.

"No, no–" he whispered.

"I didn't mean to betray you or make you feel jealous… I'm sorry… I should have stopped when he fronted," Layla covered her face, regretful. 

"I'm not upset about that," Marc held her hands with his to calm her down.  Layla sobbed, drying her tears with the back of her hand. Knowing him, it was hard to believe he wasn't jealous of his alter's affections for her, as absurd as it sounded. 

"We need to talk about… Steven," Marc muttered, "He has been nagging me to…" he cleared his throat, nervousness taking over his mind, "Steven, for fuck's sake, say something! Help me!" He hissed with a low voice. 

"I'm with you, mate…"

Layla feels her heart soar as she hears Marc mentioning his alter. 

"Nagging you to do what?"

Marc looked back at her.

"To tell you… the truth."

"What truth, Marc?" He inhaled deeply. 

"About myself… my disorder… and what caused it." The last sentence sounded ominous, but it didn't stop her compassive ways to keep flourishing. Layla sits down with him at the table. Marc slides his hands down his face in despair, just after following Layla. He grabbed the whiskey and drank the remaining liquid, placing the empty bottle at his side. Alcohol helped to disconnect the physical and mental pain. 

"He chose me because he knew I have a weak mind. That's why I hated Khonshu. I hated him with every fiber of my body, because that vulture ripped my corpse to hold me under his servitude!" 

Layla nodded, remembering how Khonshu had pointed her as the responsible for Marc's crisis. The former mercenary lowers his head. The feeling of vulnerability becomes unbearable. It had been easier to reveal the truth to Steven while in the Duat. He wishes to have the door, and show her everything, with no need of speaking. 

Marc cannot help but feel that there's something inexplicably evil with words. Words hold an unspoken, powerful effect on one's soul, and no amount of love could erase the scars left by a mother's hatred and a father's indifference. Broken bones could heal, bruises could fade away but the livid memory of Wendy Spector striking him and blaming him for her dead son would haunt him until the day he'd die. 

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Marc finally spoke. Layla stares at him but her husband just adds:

"I was twelve when I was diagnosed," the expressions on his face were shaded by a profound sadness. His mirthless eyes cause an immense sorrow on her. Marc covered his face, as if trying to peel off the shame. Layla intertwined her fingers with his, nodding so he would continue.

"Dissociative Identity?" She asked, tilting her head. 

"The doctor said it is a psychological response to trauma. It involves an identity disturbance, where two or more identities can control your behavior," Marc explained, monotonously, "It feels like being a ghost of your own body." Layla covered her mouth, dimensioning the bodeful definition. 

A psychological response to trauma.

"I had a family once," Marc suddenly added, "when… When I was a boy, my brother Randall and I loved to enact an adventure film we were fans of, so we crossed a forest and went to a cave on a rainy day–" he interrupted himself, gulping and gathering strength to keep opening up. Layla takes his hands and brushes distractingly her thumbs on them, giving him the confidence he needed. Marc squeezed his eyelids, holding back the tears. 

"We got into the cave… and he drowned when the rain flooded it," he breathed, as if saying it louder would conjure another tragedy. His words reconstruct the fatidical day and its consequences. Layla listens carefully, granting him space. But once Marc broke down in rattling sobs, she immediately got up from the chair to wrap his trembling form in her arms. 

Layla didn't oppose when Marc trapped her form in his arms with heartbreaking despair, sitting her on his lap. It helped to maintain their stillness, which contrasted so much with the torment in their minds. 

The chaos within prevented him from deciding where to start. Where pain and death caused suffering, lies began to sprout and so does the desire to become someone else. Someone whose life was better.

Marc leaned his forehead to her shoulder.

"It's just a memory..." he repeated himself constantly, like a mantra. Suddenly he remembered those birthdays on company of his father. The absence of his mother only poisoned Marc's mind with delusional notions, which bordered on jealousy and his premeditation for what happened. Locking himself in the room was always the solution to run away from Wendy Spector's anger, but Steven…

(When the danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear)

Layla stared at him, trying to understand what was going on in her head. But Spector suddenly understands something greater: Mother is the danger. 

"She never forgave me for that, beating the fuck out of me whenever she had the chance. I lied to Steven, so he could have the life I always wanted," Marc hides his face in her chest, "I survived because I knew I wasn't alone. Steven was there, always so full of life, hope… things that Marc Spector isn't."

The former mercenary ached for tenderness, understanding, to be loved. To be protected and not the protector, for once. To let his defenses fall, to breathe, just for once. Layla feels his fingers clutching at her back, and hears him sobbing.

"I wanted to put Spector to sleep! I was just a boy!" Marc exclaimed. More than ever, he wishes to throw into oblivion those horrifying epithets his mother yelled at him, accusing him of deliberately leading his brother to his demise out of jealousy.  

"Of course you were!" Layla tries to heal this regretful war criminal whose soul had been rebuilt through suffering and selflessness. As much as Layla gave him peace, her love is powerless against the painful words still echoing in his head. 

"She… she died more than two months ago," Marc whispered, once he overcame his sobs, "my father called me after so long, for her Shiva and I just… I just couldn't do it."

"It's all right, you don't have to forgive her either," Layla held his face in her hands, peppering his forehead with kisses. There's so much love in her tone of voice, and the former mercenary can be happier to hear it again. 

"I'm so, so sorry…" she gently rocked him, trying to repress the image of Marc as a child being brutally beaten by the one person who was supposed to protect him when he needed her the most. 

The inevitable contrast between her loving father and his hateful mother worsened her dismay. Abdallah El-Faouly had been such an attentive, indulgent parent with her, that she couldn't bring herself that a mother could abhor and resent her own child for such an unfortunate accident. 

Marc has tightened his grip on her waist, hiding his face and whispering something unintelligible. Layla feels a strong uneasiness when his breath shortens. He had always dwelled in thoughts on how his life would be without Khonshu, without the violence, without waking up covered in someone else's blood, without the worry of Khonshu's clutches trying to reach his wife. 

"You alright, Marc?" Steven asks at his sudden silence, not knowing his internal feud. A fiery, deathly glare is all he can threaten Khonshu with as he catches a glimpse of him, partially merged with the darkness of the right corner near the aquarium, holding his typical moon staff.  Layla keeps still, cradling his form, ignoring the danger. Marc shakes his head, squeezing his eyelids shut. 

(Organizing principle) 

He pictures himself inside a psych ward. As if the asylum was the physical manifestation of an evil entity, Marc feels that wearing clothes of the same, unpleasant whitish served as an extension of it. All he now sees is a calm Khonshu sitting in a red chair, hands crossed in a polite, almost welcoming manner. He remembers his words before becoming his legionary. But the vulture speaks. 

"Do you want death or do you want life?"

He opened his eyes, slowly lifting his head. His reality is another: Her face is all he sees when the last words ring in his ear. Layla under those purple lights, with that playful smile she gave him, is the first thing he can envision after returning among the living. He then sees Khonshu placidly sitting just a few inches away from her.  

"Life."

Layla tilted her head, trying to understand what he just said. Marc was looking at her as if he had realized something of great importance. A chance to spend his years with a loving wife. A hope to start all over again. That was the promise of that one, precious word. Hope. Understanding. Love. 

Three things he hadn't experienced. 

"Honey?" She caressed his hair. 

"I said…" Spector croaked, "I. Want. Life!" Marc's breath shortened. 

The panic doesn't take long to return, but Marc frantically latches at her neck, whispering things that she couldn't comprehend at first. The vehement display of (tormented) love causes Layla to grasp on his shoulders, instead of running away after the startling fear. 

"Marc, chill the fuck down, you're scaring her!" Steven yelled but it fell on deaf ears. It wasn't a hug. It was as if Marc was snatching her from something, protecting Layla with a possessive, vice-like grip. His raspy voice vibrates through her skin. 

"I anxiously awaited every bloodshed to end to engulf myself in you so I could forget just for a brief moment that my life wasn't a nightmare, that not everything could be against me!" Marc spat, confessing from his guts, looking up to her. 

Layla was so moved, realizing she meant more for him than she initially thought. She had always taken his rampant sexual desire as a way to relieve the fervour of violence when executing his sacred duty. The heartbreaking truth demolished the façade of invincibility. Now she could fully see that there was always more than just mere lust or physical need.

She remembers the countless times she had been with him, coming to realize that what he couldn't express in words, his body could. Sex served as a way to protect Marc. Hearing the words that bared his soul, his innate humanity demanded vulnerability, beyond his condition as the Knight and High Priest of Khonshu.  

"I never told you about Steven because being with you made me happy!" Marc suddenly continued, "I didn't need Steven to absorb any pain! There wasn't anything painful or something to shield me from whenever I was with you."

He had never been the weak one. His tenderness, his clumsy, sweet ways were the shield that saved Marc from a greater insanity. The beautiful, everyday things, the wonderful family he had, all of it had died with RoRo that dreadful day. Being aware of the wrong, evil things happening around him was already hard but being the one who failed his promise to his mother to watch over his brother made it harder and worse to tolerate.

At that moment he cursed everything. He cursed Harrow for the two bullets that ended his life, thus obliging him to face his traumas, for abandoning Layla when she needed him the most, for lying to her and for not saving Steven from the dead, claiming him to doom his eternity in the dunes. The golden sun that shone in an eternal dusk wasn't too different from being locked up in an asylum. There was nothing calm without him and Layla understands it perfectly, since Steven is a fraction of the same man. 

Marc then mentions his time as a teenager. After being locked up in an asylum for three years, Spector decides to leave. Tired of the abuse, the indifference and seeing love as something he was unworthy of, Marc chooses violence. It has its roots in boxing, much to Elias' chagrin. If his mother largely ignored him during his teen years, his father smothered him with the idea to become a rabbi. 

How could he? At this point, he was convinced that he was good at one thing: hurting people. Because the people dear to him, those who loved him suffered or died. Love had never done good for him, reaffirming his (wrong) choice to never want to be loved. For many years, Marc thought that's why he always won. His harsh ways were just a façade to hide the immense pain he carried. 

"I went AWOL and got discharged. They discovered that I falsified my documents, finding out I was interned in a psych ward. I didn't have too many options. Clandestine fights helped me to live decently for a while, before Bushman hired me as his second in command. The rest is history. I became a war criminal. A fucked up, soldier of fortune capable of inhumane acts for money. Until the raid in Egypt." 

Layla nodded, though not agreeing with the self deprecating epithet. 

"Whenever I think about all the things I did, I always wondered what made you fall in love with me. I always felt I was nothing but an innate, demented killer, a failure, a lie–" he cut himself, since being aware that Layla deserved better was the most painful part. 

"Because you're no longer that person. You don't live in the past anymore," She immediately refused to hear any other negative word. Marc felt one hand gently scratching his nape, while the other held his back. He was totally ecstatic at the gesture, treating him with such care, immersing himself in the warmth he had yearned so much since his innocence was mauled, "please believe me when I tell you that no disorder will prevent me from loving you!"

She now holds his face, kissing him. But Layla doesn't move an inch away after ceasing the caress. 

"You're exactly what you've chosen to be– a strong man determined to make up for the evil you once did, a believer and a fighter who has put himself on the good side– a new man that emerged from the ruins of what you were before."

Layla whispers so many beautiful things about why she is so in love with him. Marc is delighted to hear her: It was so haunting to think that this mysterious, yet immensely alluring crusader was lovesick for her. 

There was something so wonderful and thrilling to experience the softer side of this force of nature, intrigued to see his face while making love, to see him subdued by the promise of love, of moments without violence. She understands the tremendous pressure Marc has put on his mind, trying to live the lives of two different men during a critical moment in his life. 

"I know who and what you are, Marc! You are the strongest human I ever met! You're not mad! You're the man I love! Do you understand that?!" Layla brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, "Your own suffering diminished other's misery, you protected me, you died for me and you still think you're unworthy of love?" 

Marc doesn't answer. For a moment, the sweet sound of her voice made him forget to talk. Now, Spector only has strength to listen to these beautiful words and comprehend their effect on his psyche. 

"I'm proud of you, mate. You're so brave!" Steven's voice cheered from within, soothing his heart. Marc smiles, as Layla softly and patently caresses his hair, "You're so lucky to have her, Marc. She's so kind, so loving…" 

"She is, she is," Marc hums, pressing his forehead on her shoulder.

"Huh?" She asked. 

"Oh, I'm sorry– It's… it's Steven," he whispered, then he softly adds, "he's saying wonderful things about you." 

"Can he see us? Can he feel me when I touch you?" Layla hummed, pressing her lips on Marc's. The caresses now go up and down his face, neck, his broad shoulders.

"He can see, yes" The former mercenary says with a faint voice, too focused on kissing her breast, even with the sweater on. He remembers how beautiful she looked as Taweret's avatar. Those golden wings made her look like a celestial being. 

Marc remembered what Steven had said about the goddess in the Duat. The goddess of women and children… and also childbirth. 

It unchained a memory from many years ago. It was in a market, days before the raid that changed his life. He was having a drink, when he heard a couple of archeologists talking about local mythology and temples. Marc found the conversation quite interesting. They talked about one deity in particular, associated with the moon and protection of night travelers. It was said that whenever Khonshu caused the crescent moon to shine, fertility blessed the cattle, nostrils became full of pure air… and women conceived. 

The last sentence caused a dull, yet significant shiver between his legs. Marc leads his hands underneath the sweater, slowly kneading her way up to her waist.  

"What is it?" Layla asked, eyeing the curious and aching hands fondling her sinuosities.

"I want to sleep with you," Marc hummed against her skin. Layla rolled her eyes, giggling. 

"So what's new?"

"It just so happens that we don't have to prevent a global catastrophe nor I don't have to punish evildoers anymore," Marc chuckled but his smile soon morphed into a pleased grimace when he lifted the cloth, making Layla gasp when he drools at the sight of her bare breasts, carefully fondling them after tossing the sweater aside. He's about to say something to praise her splendid nudity but a long, loud -and straight-out hilarious- gasp is everything he can hear for now. 

"Oh my God– Marc, she– she looks gorgeous! " Steven is breathless. Spector can't help but laugh at his fascination, though he totally understood it. He had seen her body in the dark, but having the privilege to behold her body in broad daylight made his brain lose the capacity to think clearly. Layla looks down but Marc rushes to clarify things.  

"It's… it's Steven," his name suddenly draws a happy expression on her face, "he really likes what he's seeing…" 

"Well, he can see us before we get to fuck again" Layla states, rubbing his shoulders and arms, "so he knows what's gonna be like from here."

"He is the kind of man that can make you happy." Steven can love you in ways I can't…" he whispered but Layla cut his doubts with a kiss.

"Both of you make me happy, I'll have you both. He's a part of you that you can't ignore. I can't ignore him."

Marc brushes her nipple with his fingers distractingly before kissing it. Layla's breathy moan is instantaneous. He smirks. He adores her reactions, just as if it was the first time they had been together. 

"You are the reason why I'm still sane, why I'm still alive…" he breathed against the orbed part, making Layla shudder… To then give a quick lick to the areola. All he obtains is a soft, pitiful whine which doesn't take too long to make him hard. Without neglecting the part, he looked down at their privates so closely pressed. 

Marc is drooling over the sight. A thin, black thong is the only thing preventing her full nudity but an atypical, impatient echo from Steven startles the calm silence. 

"Bloody hell, Marc–! Do something!" 

Layla feels a ferrous grip on her hips and she realizes his intentions: Marc tugs the thong with urgency, tossing it to the floor to make his wife rub herself on his covered length. 

"I can't stand being without you," Spector pronounced, unconscious. He only has energy to focus on the beautiful image of Layla straddling him but a sharp scratch on his shoulders manages him to regain his strength. The interruption was followed by an awkward silence that Layla soon avoids, despite how weak his touches left her. 

"Honey?"

He suddenly remembers why he loves when Layla goes rough on him: This is the only pain he loves, for it is through that same pain that Marc knows he's alive. Their bodies wouldn't stop lusting for each other and Marc Spector's unbridled desire longs for something serving as a reminder of this rare moment of euphoria. He loves to see the scars left all over his back, and he's dying to feel that pleasurable pain all over again. 

"Again," Spector orders. 

Layla bites her lip and looks down impishly. Marc chuckles when he senses her hand pressing his nape, so his face was buried between her breasts.

"Be gentle," she asks in return and greatly rejoices when Spector puts his tongue to work on her nipple. Layla smiles when Marc cannot take it anymore, holding her while getting up. Both bodies slammed against the wall once Marc cornered Layla. 

"What do you want your good girl to do, husband?" She whispered sensually.

The small furniture helped his eager hands to spread her legs, so he could see the effect he had on her body. Layla feels so vulnerable by offering her drenched sex so openly, with an starving husband impeding any escape. His hands caressed the inner thighs, lining softly her folds and her wet, warm intimacy. 

Marc got rid of his boxers, hypnotized by her pink, glistening intimacy he so eagerly wanted to invade. He leads his hands to his mouth, oiling his fingers just before he teased her femininity, right on her fleshy bud. Layla jolted violently, everything is becoming blurry and all Marc can do is to gather enough strength to insert himself inside her.

"I want you to come around me, baby," he muttered against Layla's mouth. She holds his face with avid tenderness, loving those rebellious curls falling on his forehead. His exhausted yet completely ecstatic expression ignited her to taste his lips, setting aside a few locks. 

"Fuck- I only–" Layla doesn't allow him to talk with her voracious kisses, "wanna–wanna feel you on me," Marc circles perfectly her swollen bud and Layla just ceases the passionate kisses to writhe and moan for him, crying his name when she feels her moistened depths fluttering, yearning to be invaded, to receive Marc in the ways he deserved, so he can feel the exquisite captivity imprisoning his flesh even more. 

Marc needs more of her sounds, smiling at her urged, needful calling ring in his ears. He knows his life is made of contradictions, as being a war criminal while being the only living son of a rabbi. He was joyful and exultant to be a fearful force of nature and a touch starved man subdued by love. She calls him, wishing her man to claim her body and soul. Just then, Marc howls, desperate for humanity:

"JUST FUCK ME UNTIL I LOVE MYSELF!" he exclaims, out of his mind. 

Marc holds her closer to him, to bind her very soul with his. He slowly opened his eyes, staring at her blurred face but her voice echoes in his mind: 

"Habibi…" she lovingly lulled into his ear, knowing the effect the endearing name had on him. Once his vision is clear, he becomes lost in her loving glare, far from those harsh looks he had received during his whole fucking life. How can he not love her, if Layla is the living opposite to every abusive person that had crossed paths with him? As with Steven, Marc is maddened by the fact that someone tried to understand him from a loving perspective, instead of being examined and observed as a mentally ill lunatic.

"Habibi…" she murmured again, shuddering at the touch of his fingers down her body, tangling some curls from the abundant mane that barely managed to cover that lovely bosom of hers. His hand sneaks between her legs and he smiles when he hears Layla claiming his name, begging for more. Though he intends a more profound exploration of her body, his long, lost gaze suggests confusion as to where to start touching. 

Fascination takes over Layla when she feels an atypical gentleness in his touches, as if she was made of glass. Layla perceived that this kindness was not like him, but rather from…

"We both need you," Marc said as he slid his fingertips over her chest before pouncing like a hungry animal, sliding his tongue to reach the part previously pampered, tasting it more hungrily now. His hand drew impatient circles all over the swollen bud, making her lose the little composure she had left. 

His mouth gently nibbled at the hardened nipple and then looked up at her mischievously. Layla never felt so aroused in her life by just a gaze. Although Marc didn't believe it when she mentioned it, Layla just melted before the manly beauty of her husband. His eyes, his black hair, his intense gaze… soon Layla feels Marc is everything she needs now. 

Marc is still doing his wonders with his hands, but they cease once he decides to close the wounds of both of them, left behind by so many lies and so much foolishness when answering the call of his flesh, which ardently cries out to abandon the solitude that individuality meant.

Layla sobs and whimpers as she is invaded, relieved to receive him inside her. Marc wasted no time in thrusting into her desperately, panting heavily as pleasure made him lose his mind.

"You like that, don't you?" and Layla nods with a cute, playful expression in her face, prompting Marc to continue. He was blissfully overwhelmed by the warm, living constriction that adjusted to his length each time he slammed inside.   

Layla arched her back several times against the wall, fighting against the pleasurable pain cramps spread all over her thighs, her belly. Her labored breathing turns into scandalous moans. 

"That's it... Moan, moan for me" Marc pays more attention to her heated intimacy, getting exactly what he wanted. These were whispered words, sometimes incoherent, but beautiful. Her moans are interspersed with her native Arabic, whose sound helps to heal his heart. Marc played with the fleshy pearl hidden in his privacy, causing his wife to stir with pleasure.

The former mercenary feels the rapture reaching unimaginable dimensions when her twitching depths brutally contract around him. His voice rumbles with ecstatic moans as he pours himself inside her. Marc felt it was as if her soul begged in every (humanly) way for him to stay there, with her… wanting his rigid sex melted with hers for good, something he happily conceded. 

"Looks like someone wants to be a father," she jokingly said, but another animalistic thrust from Marc seemed to confirm what she suspected. 

"I could be one, you know…" Marc hums against her mouth. Both laughed it off.

It is a mad, sweet addiction. 

This is the only madness that Marc wants: this love, the one a man feels towards a woman, the love that reduces a man to a slave, to a madman. He is proud to recognize himself addicted to her body, to her love, to her good heart, to the fact that their bodies could not stop once they united. Layla glides her hands over his neck, feeling the skin vibrate as he speaks. 

"Save me…" She saw how lost his expression was, still basking in the elation of being one, "save us…"  

That blissful glare was rare and gorgeous to gaze at. His forehead touched her shoulder, repeating the plea over and over. He probably didn't even know what he was saying at this point. She caresses his hair but Marc keeps his vicious, downright desperate grip around her waist, hiding his face. 

"She's a goddess, Marc!" An enraptured Steven Grant exclaims from within. Marc groans at the strident joy of his alter and it catches Layla's attention. 

"Sweetie?" She asks. It takes a few seconds for Marc to react. He breaks their physical bond, without getting away from her. 

"Steven wants to hug you," Marc murmured. Layla tilted her head, softly laughing at the tender request. 

"Did he enjoy our little show?" She playfully asked. 

"I think he did," Marc giggled, looking right at her, "it means a lot to him, you know?" He steps away from her, looking at the mirror's reflection, which showed an impatient Steven, "alright, you're in."

Layla closely pays attention to the moment her husband keeps mute for a moment. He turned around, quickly glancing at her. Layla's face beams with happiness as Steven gasps at the sight of her, completely exposed. She got down from the furniture, walking towards him. 

"Oh, dear!" Steven almost stumbled, seeing her and himself with no clothes on. He doesn't move an inch, incapable of taking his eyes off her. Layla finally comes close to him, extending her hand to caress his face. 

"Steven." His breath shortened as her hands reached his lips, brushing her thumb over it. His fearful, innocent attitude, so distant from Marc's rough ways, makes her feel guilty for how angry she was at him when they met. 

"Steven Grant… from the gift shop," she lovingly hummed, while slowly wrapping his neck with her arms. She can feel his body tensing, especially when his chest is pressed against hers, "don't be afraid…" 

She starts leaving a line of kisses all over his neck, to let him know it was real. He groans softly, sliding his hands down her waist as a sensual compensation for her embrace. 

"Layla…" he muttered, bewitched by her beauty, "look–look I–" nervousness makes him clear his throat, trying to hide the panic. Layla undoes the hug, causing a low whine from Steven. Layla pays full attention to him. She has that look in her eyes, full of love, of understanding. 

Everything changed all of a sudden. Not too long ago, Steven had been dwelling in depression for a missed date, sick of his usual bad luck. Layla's gentle heart makes him forget that angry call, the shame… he still has trouble thinking something or someone this good couldn't be true. 

"Last night… last night was amazing," Steven Grant stutters, but it doesn't scare her off. She keeps listening carefully, "I never thought you wanted me in that way… I just freaked out because I didn't know what was happening."

A cute smile on Layla's lips encourages him to continue.  

"You…" he says, feeling the typical lightheadedness of love brought with it, "you looked absolutely lovely. I feel… I feel I've been waiting for this moment my whole life." 

She nods, smiling as she remembers the kiss in the desert. Layla also remembers she had been the one starting the affections. But the memory itself doesn't prompt her to properly resume what Steven had interrupted (even if it was with a noble reason). It was the rapture that made his eyes shine. That same love he looked at her with back before finding Ammit's tomb. Layla's face came closer to his, searching to lock their mouths. 

Steven gladly consents and responds to her hungry kiss, praising her each time their mouths broke the caress. The sound of their lips colliding sent shivers through his nerves, thinking this could be the beginning to more touches. 

"I absolutely loved you fucking me so hard, Steven with a V," Layla whispered between kisses, stopping for a few seconds to bathe in the tender praise. The nerd chuckles happily. After all, she remembers that silly rhyme. 

"When I came here, I wanted my husband and I ended up with two instead." 

"I thought that if I was under the service of an evil, stupid pigeon, I was also married to you.” The mild mannered man pants against her mouth, loving the feel of her breath on his face.

Layla sneaks her tongue inside his mouth, parting his lips. Steven allows her to, leading his restless hands towards her chest, squeezing her soft forms. Layla broke the kiss, eyes open in surprise at his daring boldness. The long and awkward silence scares Steven, ashamed of his impulsivity: 

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to think I'm a creep or something–"

"No!" Layla calmed him down but Steven's insecurity keeps speaking for him:

"I'm sorry, it's just… just before I met you, I missed a date. All because Marc had to retrieve that golden beetle. I don't remember kissing anyone until you," Steven places his hands over her shoulders, "I don't remember anyone until you. Please tell me this isn't the last time we do it." 

Layla rolls her eyes, taking his hands to place them all over her chest, so he could squeeze and fondle them. 

"Didn't you hear me? I said–" she pulled him closer to her to then purr, "you can see us before we get to fuck again." Steven moans when his fingers get to touch the nascent line to the full, round part. 

"That's it… touch them if you're not convinced," Layla approves his touches, putting her hands over Steven's and he's there again, consumed by desire. His eyes reflect an incommensurable gratitude and profound relief.

"That is the best part of all this adventure," Steven whispered, amorously holding her hands on his, "I got to meet the wife I didn't know I had. How was I supposed to live the simple, normal, peaceful life Marc intended if you're not in it?" The line is powerful enough to make a tear fall from her eye. 

"You can now, Steven" she held him close, "because you're alive and I can touch you and love you." Steven wraps his arms around her waist once both lay down. He holds her with passion, gratefulness, free of any thought concerning his solitude. 

Layla means 'night' in both Hebrew and Arabic, and for the first time in his life, Marc Spector could succumb to rest, feasting his eyes on the beautiful stars that saved his existence from complete darkness.

[ynx1]

Ten Types of Modesty حیا

Ibn-ul Qayyim (raḥimahullāh) mentioned in his book Madarij us Saalikeen Vol. 2 Pg. 267 “Al Hayaa’ (i.e. modesty) is categorized into ten types:

1. The modesty of Shame: This is similar to the modesty of Adam (Alaihis salam) when he fled in paradise after eating from the forbidden tree. Allah asked him “Are you fleeing form me O Adam because of your sin?” He said: “No my lord! Rather it is out of shame that I flee from you!”

2. The modesty that results in you realizing your shortcomings such as; the modesty of the angels, those who praise Allah day and night and never enervate. On the Day of Judgment they will say Subhanaka! (i.e. Glory be to You!) we did not worship You as You deserved to be worshiped.”

3. The modesty of Magnification: This modesty is a result of knowledge. The extent of knowledge the slave has of his Lord, will determine how modest or shy of Him he/she is.

4. The modesty of Generosity: This is similar to the modesty of the Prophet (Sallahu alaihi wa salam) with those people he invited to the walimah (i.e. marriage banquet) of Zaynab Bint Jahsh (Radiyallahu anha)and they stayed with him longer than necessary, so he stood up and walked away without saying to them “Leave!”.

5. The modesty of Embarrassment: This is similar to the modesty of Ali Ibn Talib (Radiyallahu anhu)when he was too embarrassed to ask the Prophet himself about the pre-seminal discharge he was experiencing, because he was married to his daughter.

6. The modesty of Low self-worth: This is similar to the modesty of the slave in front of his lord when he asks Him for his needs, knowing that he doesn’t deserve it. In a narration of Bani Israel Musa (Alaihis salam) said: “O lord, a need or desire of this life arises and I am too modest to ask You for it O lord!” So Allah responded to him by saying: “Ask me for what whatever you like, whether it is the salt for your dough or the fodder for your herd!” And it is possible that this is because of two things:

7. The modesty of Love: This is the modesty of the one who loves another, and when he thinks in his heart of the one he loves during his absence, his modesty for him is greater than what he feels for him in his presence and he doesn’t even know why. There is no doubt that the love of a person has a stronger and more magnificent authority over the individual than the authority of the one who conquers the body physically. And because of this, kings and elite authority wonder in amazement about creation and how they are conquered because of the love they have for someone greater than they are conquered by power and physical authority. We asked Sheikh ul Islam Ibn Taymiyah (Rahimahullah) about this issue, and I mentioned this to him and he just smiled and didn’t say anything.

8. The modesty of Servitude: This is the type of modesty that is mixed with love and fear while witnessing that there is no perfection in his worship or servitude to the One he worships. And the slave acknowledges that his Lord is greater and more opulent than what he is offering of worship, so his servitude to Allah causes him to be modest of Him, and there is no way around this.

9. The modesty of honor and dignity: The modesty of the noble and prestigious soul. if he does something that is beneath his caliber, either by exerting himself or doing some random act of good, he is modest despite what he has exerted of himself with a type of modesty that is honorable and dignified, and there are two reasons for this:

10. The modesty of an individual regarding himself: This is the modesty of the noble, honorable and dignified individual due to him being pleased with the fact that he has some shortcomings. He prostrates himself out of modesty as if he has two personalities. He is modest with one regarding the other and this is the most complete form of modesty. If the slave is modest regarding himself then he is more likely to be modest in front of others

[omar-rudeberg]

the music of young royals, vols. 1-17

This post highlights is the music of young royals, volumes 1-17, lovingly birthed by @starsabovetheunderground (and shared here with express permission). These are separate close analyses of the young royals soundtrack, encapsulating close character studies, audio aesthetics, lyric interpretations, and how each of the songs are simultaenously informed by and drive forward the narrative within which they occur. Each contains exceptional meta-analysis, delicately nuanced and summarised in a piece of gorgeously evocative prose.

I have listed each post below with a favourite moment lifted from the text (none of the quotes are mine). Share this post if you’re called to, but most importantly, please click through to read and like / reblog / reply to / share the original work!

«« »»

the music of young royals

vol. 1 | bad - farveblind, killason

we are being pulled into the underground and the world of young royals with a mission to escape.

vol. 2 | wannabe ghetto - fata boom

battling the beat is the revving engine of erik's sports car.

vol. 3 | it takes a fool to remain sane - omar rudberg

acknowledging just how difficult this must be for wilhelm ... telling him, in fact, going crazy is the only response that makes sense.

vol. 4 | i see you - nadia tehran

to be a public figure like a royal is to be living in a fishbowl (or, using the metaphor from young royals, a frog prince snow globe) and exposed for viewing at all angles.

vol. 5 | blah blah blah - armin van buuren

once again we’re pulled into the underground, but this time the mission is not to escape. this time the mission is to survive...

vol. 6 | hands up high - adele roberts, jacob blair, gabriella chering, charlie tenku

if simon's voice is the powerful melody that comes through clear over the noise then these lyrics are a sign for wilhelm to keep turning up the dial.

vol. 7 | no tomorrow - ty frankel, stephane lo jacomo, myariah summers

but the songs of the second episode belong to felice ... can be read as an expression of the expectations for felice to get wilhelm’s attention and perhaps one day become a princess.

vol. 8 | alpha - yung titties

there is still an opulent confidence that accompanies the power of money. that money begets cultural capital begets more money.

vol. 9 | come to play -  andrey tatarinov, ty frankel, nathan bodiker

wilhelm must decide if he wants to make a break for it with simon or surrender all hopes of escape resigned to his gilded cage.

vol. 10 | äter upp dig - maxida märak

for what is supposed to be a moment of happy family reunions, there is a lot of unspoken tension just below the surface.

vol. 11 | holes - zhala, deep throat choir

...that state of isolation wilhelm is frozen in. the wind blows through his life, but the breeze echoes off the canyon walls freshly carved by the loss of the solid foundation from erik's presence that was once there.

vol. 12 | remember - omar rudberg

this song has a fascinating dual meaning of being both a memorial and a ballad. the remembrance is for erik, but being written into history is for wilhelm.

vol. 13 | revolution - elias, no. 1

there's the beauty of their love returning to the surface, but it still means setting a fire and feeling the heat as it burns.

vol. 13 | revolution - elias, no. 2

young royals uses beauty and love as a way to enter a revolutionary consciousness, where wilhelm and simon's connection becomes a way to push out of the past and into the future.

vol. 14 | live and die - gina dirawi

all that [wilhelm] has left is worship at the altar of the only god he has found: the love he feels for simon. ((not that I’m picking favourites, but if you’re going to read just one? for goodness sakes let it be this one - Lili x))

vol. 15 | sunday - gina dirawi

wilhelm is being cast down not only for refusing to kneel to the crown, but for kneeling in love before simon. ((...and this one - Lili x))

vol. 16 | impatient - duvchi

the meaning is to be impatient, but the way the song echoes the ending of the word as “patient” doubly communicates the opposite. this patience vs. impatience manifests immediately ... it’s wilhelm's impatience against simon's patience.

vol. 17 | samurai swords (acoustic) - highasakite

this song is the lone one that belongs to august. he wants to inflict as much damage on wilhelm as immediately as he can, even if that means burning the bridge. even if it means burning the palace.

[i-asifeq]

Ten Types of Modesty حیا

Ibn-ul Qayyim (raḥimahullāh) mentioned in his book Madarij us Saalikeen Vol. 2 Pg. 267 “Al Hayaa’ (i.e. modesty) is categorized into ten types:

1. The modesty of Shame: This is similar to the modesty of Adam (Alaihis salam) when he fled in paradise after eating from the forbidden tree. Allah asked him “Are you fleeing form me O Adam because of your sin?” He said: “No my lord! Rather it is out of shame that I flee from you!”

2. The modesty that results in you realizing your shortcomings such as; the modesty of the angels, those who praise Allah day and night and never enervate. On the Day of Judgment they will say Subhanaka! (i.e. Glory be to You!) we did not worship You as You deserved to be worshiped.”

3. The modesty of Magnification: This modesty is a result of knowledge. The extent of knowledge the slave has of his Lord, will determine how modest or shy of Him he/she is.

4. The modesty of Generosity: This is similar to the modesty of the Prophet (Sallahu alaihi wa salam) with those people he invited to the walimah (i.e. marriage banquet) of Zaynab Bint Jahsh (Radiyallahu anha)and they stayed with him longer than necessary, so he stood up and walked away without saying to them “Leave!”.

5. The modesty of Embarrassment: This is similar to the modesty of Ali Ibn Talib (Radiyallahu anhu)when he was too embarrassed to ask the Prophet himself about the pre-seminal discharge he was experiencing, because he was married to his daughter.

6. The modesty of Low self-worth: This is similar to the modesty of the slave in front of his lord when he asks Him for his needs, knowing that he doesn’t deserve it. In a narration of Bani Israel Musa (Alaihis salam) said: “O lord, a need or desire of this life arises and I am too modest to ask You for it O lord!” So Allah responded to him by saying: “Ask me for what whatever you like, whether it is the salt for your dough or the fodder for your herd!” And it is possible that this is because of two things:

7. The modesty of Love: This is the modesty of the one who loves another, and when he thinks in his heart of the one he loves during his absence, his modesty for him is greater than what he feels for him in his presence and he doesn’t even know why. There is no doubt that the love of a person has a stronger and more magnificent authority over the individual than the authority of the one who conquers the body physically. And because of this, kings and elite authority wonder in amazement about creation and how they are conquered because of the love they have for someone greater than they are conquered by power and physical authority. We asked Sheikh ul Islam Ibn Taymiyah (Rahimahullah) about this issue, and I mentioned this to him and he just smiled and didn’t say anything.

8. The modesty of Servitude: This is the type of modesty that is mixed with love and fear while witnessing that there is no perfection in his worship or servitude to the One he worships. And the slave acknowledges that his Lord is greater and more opulent than what he is offering of worship, so his servitude to Allah causes him to be modest of Him, and there is no way around this.

9. The modesty of honor and dignity: The modesty of the noble and prestigious soul. if he does something that is beneath his caliber, either by exerting himself or doing some random act of good, he is modest despite what he has exerted of himself with a type of modesty that is honorable and dignified, and there are two reasons for this:

10. The modesty of an individual regarding himself: This is the modesty of the noble, honorable and dignified individual due to him being pleased with the fact that he has some shortcomings. He prostrates himself out of modesty as if he has two personalities. He is modest with one regarding the other and this is the most complete form of modesty. If the slave is modest regarding himself then he is more likely to be modest in front of others

[risukadarlin]

[kuro yoshiwara melancholia] vol. 2: tenshou tatsuki - track two

2; a desire for tears

listen along・masterpost

                                                                                       ✿

The rain is quite horrible.

You’re finally here.

This place is rather sluggish, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s just cultural differences.

I’m not exactly pleased about being made to wait for a harlot.

I assume the fact you’ve brought this girl with you means she’s the one we spoke of.

Hm. That’s you, huh?

Then take me to your establishment right away.

                                                                                      ✿

What is this place?

It’s like a cage.

You want me to evaluate this prostitute here?

And what on earth is that?

Why are you wearing a blindfold? 

What bad taste!

Do the staff here really believe that will incite lust in their customers?

How foolish.

I, at least, now want nothing more than to finish our talk and leave immediately.

But… Hmm… I see…

I could indeed say you look quite attractive like this.

Not that I’m surprised; most high-ranking courtesan​ at least look good.

Oh, I apologise.

I’m Tatsuki Tenshou.

I’m a Commander in the Imperial Navy.

You said your name was Nanami, did you not?

Hm.

But I didn’t come all the way to Kirarou to ask that.

I’ll be direct.

Is it true you have mermaid blood?

So you deflect my question?

But there’s no need to hide it.

For your own sake.

Yes, that’s right.

If it is indeed true, I plan to pay off the rest of your debts immediately.

How does that sound?

I’m the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

You have no objections, of course? 

But I do hope you don’t misunderstand.

I’m not interested in you at all.

Not your face.

Not your body.

Not even that infamous unforgettably beautiful voice of yours.

All of those things you use to seduce and deceive customers have not even a drop of value for me.

I don’t have such dirty hobbies as taking harlots as concubines or wives.

I only want one thing.

The power of immortality hidden in your tears.

I have... personal reasons.

I need it immediately, no matter what.

If you really do have such a power, of course.

Are you really a mermaid?

Or is that a lie to make the game more fun?

Can you tell me?

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time.

If you continue to feign ignorance…

I may have to change my methods.

Of course, I would usually never talk to a person like you.

I’m making a special exception.

Women like you enjoy being humiliated like this, no?

Then it can’t be helped.

I’ll do as you wish.

Cry for me in return.

I’m resigning myself to the disgrace of being with you.

As reluctant as I am, I have to do this to achieve my goal.

That’s why I came to Kirarou.

As a player in this foul Kuroyoshiwara Game.

Now, come closer to me.

This is a trade.

There’s no need to hold back.

You want me to stop?

You say such odd things.

Are you saying you find my courting unpleasant?

Then there’s nothing for it.

The fastest way to verify these rumours is to make you cry.

Then maybe I should just threaten you like this.

It’ll be much easier to cry if you’re terrified.

Ah, just so you know, any sudden movements and you’ll get hurt.

You’ll be lucky if you just get hurt.

You look scared.

Then hurry up and cry like I told you!

I haven’t got time for this!

Not a single tear.

Not a word either.

You have more guts than I assumed.

You merely look weak.

Just as I thought.

Women in places like this always end up having grit.

You’re just like them.

I expected as much of someone who leads men around by the nose for a living.

In other words, I need a better plan if I want your tears.

I’ll leave it here for tonight.

Even if I was just threatening you, I don’t want to be seen waving a blade around.

I might lose my place in the game if I’m seen hurting you.

But I will make you cry soon.

Those odd tears of immortality.

I’ll tell you this now:

Don’t misunderstand me.

I won’t hurt you as long as you work with me.

The higher you decide, the larger your reward will be.

Listen to the rain and think hard tonight.

Then.

Goodbye.

That’s right.

I have no time.

                                                                                      ✿

Why is she going to the bathhouse at such a time as this?

That woman…

Huh? That’s…

Speak of the devil, as they say.

Oi, stop.

It won’t take long.

Oi, Nanami.

What great timing.

I just arrived at Kirarou now.

To talk to you, of course.

I came all this way and you weren’t even there.

You almost greatly wasted my time.

There’s no need to be so clearly on guard.

Your attitude really is something.

Did you forget what I said already?

So, are you going to work with me?

Tell me.

Silence, again.

Well, I thought that might be the case.

Then…

I’ll give you this.

It’s an invitation.

The papers haven’t stopped talking about it.

There’ll be a ceremony celebrating the launching of a new battleship soon.

A party, one might say.

Finally, Japan has made a ship which won’t lose to that of the Great Powers.

You’re not against celebrating the improvement of your country, are you?

Well, telling an uncultured woman such as you about such things is meaningless.

However, after the ceremony by the harbour, there’ll be a party at a nearby hotel.

Of course, it’s not just any party.

It’s a celebration of this country’s progress.

The prime minister and other elite bureaucrats will be in attendance.

My father will be leading the toast, as a fleet admiral in the Imperial Navy.

You understand what this means, of course?

You really are clueless.

There is no greater honour than leading such a toast.

My father’s honour is connected to the whole Tenshou family’s honour.

There won’t be many prouder days for me.

I’m going out of my way to invite you to witness such a moment.

What a privilege!

I know you’re confused.

It’s simple.

This is my new plan.

To obtain your tears, of course.

If threatening you does not work, then I’ll simply charm you into doing as I wish.

But that doesn’t change that I have no time.

And so, I decided the fastest way would be for you to have fun.

How is that?

It’s not an awful affair, right?

And it follows the rules of the game.

There are 5 other competitors in this game.

I don’t know who they are but I’ll lose everything if they sweep you off your feet before I can.

So I merely have to charm you to the point they don’t stand a chance.

I told you, did I not?

I’ve resolved myself to obtain your tears.

I’ll do anything to achieve my goal.

I’ll bear any pain and use any method I can.

If you attend this party, you’ll understand just how much of an honour it is to be under my care.

Even if what I want is not you, but your tears.

There is only one problem.

Usually, it would be impossible for a harlot to sneak into such a splendid affair.

I assume even you understand this?

But I have a plan.

I am going to introduce you as the person I have promised my future to.

Of course, to my father too.

Oi. Don’t misunderstand.

This is simply a means to an end.

I’d never choose someone such as you as my fiancée.

But introducing you as such will give you the rank you need to attend.

You’d be the fiancée of the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

Nobody would be able to disrespect you.

Do you understand?

I’m willing to go this far to allow you to live a fairy-tale-like moment.

Only I am able to do this. 

Even if the other contenders in this game were my family, they would be unable to.

You’re too surprised to talk?

If you choose me now, I’ll give you even more marvellous experiences.

If you cry now and hand over your tears, I wouldn’t even mind marrying you.

People will eventually accept you as some young woman I found and proposed to.

I don’t long for love.

So I don’t care who my partner is.

As long as I am compensated, of course.

Oh? You have no interest in becoming my wife?

So you don’t mind being swept away by some doubtful stranger?

Or would you like to spend your entire life here?

You really are a foolish woman.

Why don’t you stop this stubbornness?

I don’t know if it’s some technique used by prostitutes but it won’t work on me.

Whatever.

I gave you the invitation.

I’ll come to Kirarou to collect you on Friday evening.

Prepare yourself and wait.

I arranged for some trunks to be carried to your room.

They contain dresses and shoes; try them on as you wish when you return.

Yes, I knew you wouldn’t have an opulent dress to wear to a party.

I chose them all.

They’re all first-class goods, fitting for my fiancée.

I’ll be the one to suffer if you turn up in rags at the greatest moment the Tenshou family has faced so far.

And so I decided.

Make sure you dress so you don’t embarrass me or my father.

I bid you adieu.

My mermaid princess.

[lady-griffin]

Things Got Crazy at a Slumber Party...

I would just like to say the title of this episode is so misleading…nothing crazy happened. False Advertising!

Eat the Rich

Seeing Anne’s room made me want to talk to her and urge her to revolt against the rich and distribute their wealth.

Spare Katarina, but rise up and revolt.

When I first saw her room, I legit thought Katarina was going to be surprised by Anne’s room and maybe (somehow by the end of the episode) was going to redecorate it and upgrade it for Anne…but nope. That idea quickly faded the second it went into my head.

Revolt against the aristocrats, Anne. 

Spare Katarina, but rise up and fight.

Eat the rich!

No, but in all seriousness, sometimes I have problems with anime (stories in general) where the affluent and opulent wealth of characters is just the background and it’s never going to be address in all seriousness. Particularly when they show that not everyone is as wealthy…

Why show Anne’s room to be like, if you’re never going to actually talk about it nor resolve the wealth gap. Why show her room to be depressing looking? Why not just give her a nice room? It doesn’t have to be Katarina’s room’s level of finery, but something.

That aside, let’s continue onward to the rest of the episode.

Katarina running off to tell everyone (and to thank them) for her making it to the second year, was adorable. Katarina throughout this episode was so goddamn precious.

LOOK AT HER!

LOOK AT HER!

JUST LOOK AT HER!

I just…Katarina must be protected at all costs. She is the best girl that ever existed.

I love this beautiful, bisexual-mess of an idiot. She��s perfection.

I’m still mad at Anne for denying Katarina’s original PJ choices. How dare you Anne! How dare you deprive me of that. How dare you!

I’m going to discuss the episode in more detail further down, so we’re going to get into some spoiler territory (I guess?). So, you’ve been warned.

Potential Spoilers Below

--

Anne’s view on each of the character’s feelings for Katarina was fantastic.

Geordo’s Feelings 

While we didn’t actually get to see it, which was disappointing, Anne being scared of Geordo for initially telling Katarina that her scar was gone was hilarious. I am disappointed we haven’t seen Geordo at his true level of horrifying, but still…

Just his eyes narrowing may have cut a few years off of Anne’s life alone.

Keith’s Feelings

Poor Keith. Again, I don’t ship them, but still you still gotta feel bad for him.

What is the purpose of others thinking you’re good-looking, if the one person you want doesn’t?

I love Keith and his mother. They’re hilarious.

Alan’s Feelings

OMG Alan, how have you not figured it out, yet. You’re playing the violin for vegetation at the request of Katarina…I just.

Alan sweetheart, you are in love with this woman.

I do like how he actually did it for Katarina. That’s so fucking funny.

But also, just look at this face, how could he not.

It’s a good thing Katarina doesn’t want any actual political power or anything like that, she would be unstoppable.

Mary’s Feelings

Mary is several levels above everyone else. No comparison. 

She is subtly convincing Katarina that Katarina won’t do well as a Princess-Consort and has already figured out a way for them to leave and probably already has a manor set up by the sea, with a field already to go for the two of them (and Anne).

Mary is a bit scary in all honesty.

Nicol’s Feelings

Nicol’s cute smile was just adorable. Nicol x Katarina aren’t really one of my main ships, but I do love the contrast between these two.

Katarina this bright and bubbly ball of energy and sunshine and Nicol, a stoic statue who has trouble expressing himself, but can’t help but smile when he’s in Katarina’s presence.

Sophia’s Feelings

Sophia wanting Katarina to get with Nicol, even though she also loves Katarina is everything. Her listing off her brother’s good qualities (at random times) is hilarious to me. Always has been.

Sophia is just so damn cute.

Maria’s Feelings

Maria is giving Katarina all the treats. Smart Lady! She may have come late into the race for Katarina’s heart, but she’s playing to win.

In general, I like how we got quick snippets of everyone’s feelings for Katarina. I also love how the anime, legit just says the girls are in love with Katarina. I’ll always appreciate that.

--

Anne and Katarina

Anne’s POV in this episode was just everything. I’m so glad the anime adapted it from the Light Novel, seeing as the Manga just ignored it. I’m so very happy.

When she lifted up her sleeve to reveal the burn marks, I gasped.

I wasn’t sure if the Anime was going to actually include that part (the Manga did skip over it), so I’m very happy the anime chose to include Anne’s full backstory. 

It makes me sad, but it’s good angst.

It’s not the same as the Light Novel, but Anne’s backstory and her relationship with Katarina was everything. That little montage of Anne and Katarina… my heart can’t handle such cuteness.

Also, I genuinely really love how when Katarina asked Anne’s father to not take Anne away, she had a bit of a bratty vibe to her. Very similar to Katarina before she regained her memories.

Even though she has her memories, Katarina is still a kid. And I just love that.

Anne refusing her father’s order. Mwah!

I really appreciate how the anime changed that scene from the Light Novel to Anne standing up for herself and actually speaking up.

Well Done! Good Choice!

Also, Luigi Claes stepping in to talk to the Baron himself was just nice to see. 

It was great seeing him being intimidating and such. While Katarina sees him as her dopey, doting father, there is more to him.

In the LN, it’s made clear that he learned about the man Anne’s father wanted to marry her off to and was not happy with that and came to Anne’s defense. 

But I also just like how a part of it, is probably because Katarina wanted Anne to stay with her (and Anne wanted the same thing) and Luigi can’t deny his daughter anything.

Luigi Claes doing the right thing (because it’s the right thing) but also, because he’s the kind of father, who will give his daughter anything. There’s a reason why OG Katarina was so spoiled. 

The fact that Katarina knew Anne would come into her room in the middle of the night to put her covers back on her, was just so sweet. 

Because Anne probably thought Katarina never knew she even did that, but of course Katarina knew.

Katarina giving gifts to Anne and being the first person to ever give her a birthday present…I swear I’m not crying, you’re crying.

I LOVE THESE TWO!

I guess while it’s never stated, I presume all the other stuff in the box were gifts from Katarina or objects related to a fond memory Anne has of Katarina.

Which gives me a headcanon.

Headcanon – Everyone has kept all the gifts they’ve ever received from Katarina as well as certain items they associate with a specific time or event they shared with Katarina.

We know from the Light Novels, that Keith has kept all the birthday presents he’s ever received from Katarina. And I thought it was said he kept the remnants of the door Katarina broke down, but I couldn’t confirm that. But now that’s a headcanon of mine as well.

More specifically, I now have the headcanon that either Geordo or Alan kept the snake toy that Katarina first threw at Geordo all those years ago. 

Probably Alan, as that memory is 100% positive one for him. While for Geordo, that memory probably mixed at best.

There is something cute about Geordo being scared of that toy, telling on Katarina and getting her in trouble, but nonetheless keeping that dreaded fake snake.

Anne and Katarina and their whole relationship was just everything. They were truly and absolutely the highlight of this episode. My heart was ready to burst.

--

Sleepover

Overall, it was very cute. It was nice seeing the girl’s hang out and be in their pajamas. 

Katarina saving Anne from the girls’ question about marriage, was just very nice and does show Katarina is not as dense as we may think. She’s aware.

I will say, though, it was a bit lacking in comparison to the bonus Manga chapter in Vol. 5 (LN).

Particularly in regards to Mary. I mean just look at Mary in the Light Novel for comparison. It almost feels like a different scene. 

Also, while I did realize this last week. 

Sophia’s wish in romance and how over-the-top, pure fantasy, based on romance novels her ideas actually are, really makes her fantasy in last week’s episode (I became Engulfed by Desire) feel way more off. 

And just not accurate to Sophia’s character.

You’re telling me that Nicol in his amplified fantasy is basically Tuxedo Mask jumping around Venice with Katarina, but Sophia’s amplified fantasy is just her being in her family’s library with Katarina.

I call bullshit.

Sophia’s desire book fantasy, should’ve been the most crazy and over top thing ever. 100%. And this episode confirms that.

Both Maria and Katarina wanting to cook for their partner is very lovely and shows their compatibility.

I am a bit disappointed that we didn’t get to see the boys’ sleepover, but Nicol’s eyes sparkling when he heard that the sleepover would include boy’s talk was just too precious.

His thoughts are definitely much more innocent in comparison to what Sophia was thinking when she heard about Boy’s Talk…I love Sophia.

--

Geordo and Katarina

I was really looking forward to seeing Ch.17.5 be adapted to the anime, but unfortunately, I was thoroughly disappointed by it.

It was much less sweet, cute and funny then it was in the Manga. Seeing the scene in the anime just made me want to read the Manga chapter again. 

Seriously, you don’t have to read the whole Manga (you should though), but do yourself a favor and read Ch. 17.5. It’s amazing!

Just look at this dork

This was a golden opportunity for the anime, to really show Geordo’s feelings and relationship with Katarina from his perspective. And just endear the audience to him. 

They completely dropped the ball.

I feel like the anime doesn’t understand or even like Geordo’s character. He seems less dynamic, engaging and interesting in the anime. And the aspects that make very endearing and heartfelt, are basically taken out.

He hardly comes across as the leading male…which is disappointing for me, since I really love Geordo and Geordo x Katarina.

I am very disappointed with the treatment of Geordo. The anime is doing a disservice to him, in my opinion. Especially in comparison to Alan who the anime has added extra moments for.

I do appreciate those extra Alan moments, but I would appreciate them a lot more if it didn’t feel like Geordo was being left out. 

Nonetheless, Geordo’s face when he saw everyone else and when saw that they all got Katarina gardening shears as well was fantastic!

--

Katarina Speaks Two Languages Headcanon

I mean this episode basically confirmed that. With Katarina writing the letter to Geordo, but writing everyone’s name in Kanji (?) on their gardening uniforms.

While we do have Keith’s and Duchess Claes’ signs not being written in the country’s language, that’s more for comedy sake as those signs don’t exist in reality.

But did anyone in the Harem wonder, why Katarina wrote their names in an entirely different language? I just love the idea of everyone being shocked to learn that Katarina can speak and write fluently in two languages.

--

Conclusion

I overall enjoyed this episode. 

Some scenes I found a bit lacking (or more than a bit) in comparison to what they were based off of from the Manga or Light Novel. I will say I liked how this episode did take its material from the Light Novels and the bonus chapter in the Manga, as well as adding their own bits and pieces.

It was well done.

I’m definitely salty over how wrong they got Ch. 17.5. I just…at times it feels like the anime gets the core of certain scenes and characters (without doing the exact same thing from the LN or Manga or adding their own scenes) just right, but for Geordo they just seem to miss the mark.

Also, the material from Ch. 17.5 just felt like it was added onto the end, it didn’t really go with the rest of the episode…

And in relation to that, Mary being subdued in the sleepover scene was disappointing as well.

I understand there are budgets and restrictions, so I’m hoping they’re saving it for the last three episodes.

Anne and Katarina were the clear highlight of this episode. Without them being the focus of the episode, I would’ve found it less enjoyable, even with all the cute and precious moments we got to see.

But overall, a lovely episode with so many precious moments and it gave me so many feels in regards to Anne and her relationship with Katarina. So many!

[helshades]

Hola Hel! Je t'avais il y a longtemps demandé ton avis pour un parfum "hors niche", après que mes proches m'eurent offert une carte cadeau Sephora; tes excellents conseils m'avaient conduit à découvrir L'air de temps de Nina Ricci, dont je ne me passe plus. Eh bien je me trouve dans la même situation aujourd'hui et je voulais savoir si tu avais d'autres recommandations inspirées! J'avais envisager de tester Jardins de Bagatelle, mais la politique de Guerlain me déplaît et les flacons sont laids.

Je ne me fais pas entièrement l’avocate du Diable en faisant charitablement remarquer que Guerlain n’est pas, au fond, responsable de son propre sort, dans la mesure où c’est l’acquisition de la maison par LVMH en 1994 qui a signé la déchéance artistique d’un monument patrimonial. Je partage le rêve de bien des parfumeurs de voir au moins les parfums historiques inscrits au patrimoine français – ce qui permettrait par exemple de sauvegarder des recettes et des matières premières, face au rouleau-compresseur européen.

Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain, 1853 : l’Eau de Cologne impériale. Aimé, son fils : Cuir de Russie (1872), Jicky (1889), Eau de Cologne du Coq (1892), Jacques, petit-neveu d’Aimé :  Après l’Ondée (1906), L'Heure Bleue (1912), Mitsouko (1919), Shalimar (1925), Vol de nuit (1933). Jean-Paul, petit-fils de Jacques : Habit Rouge (1965), Chamade (1969), Eau de Guerlain (1974), Nahéma (1979), Jardin de Bagatelle (1983), Samsara (1989). Et encore, j’ai opéré des coupes franches.

Thierry Wasser & Delphine Jelk : La Petite Robe noire (2012, puis environ un million de flankers), dans le flacon historique de L’Heure bleue (!!!), horreur bonbonnesque fétichisée par toutes les jeunes filles en fleur qui aiment tant se sentir unique en portant le même parfum que 73% de leurs copines (les autres porteront un machin à la vanille et au caramel).

Bon, bref, les parfums chez Sephora. Avec une carte cadeau. Euh... elle est généreuse, cette carde cadeau ? Pas au point, j’imagine, de pouvoir te conseiller la collection « Hermessences » de chez, et oui, Hermès, c’est-à-dire le « laboratoire d’idées » de Jean-Claude Ellena qui s’était fait drôlement plaisir avant la retraite, et qui m’oblige à arpenter EBay et Vinted comme une âme en peine pour dénicher des flacons de la collecque à moitié prix, au moins (235€ les 100ml, 359€ les 200ml, je vendrais mon âme pour Cèdre Sambac, j’irais même jusqu’à faire le repassage). Quoique je viens de vérifier : aucune n’est vendue chez Sephora. J’imagine qu’ils connaissent leur public, qui doit être moins désaxé que celui du Printemps – et arrête de me regarder comme ça, je n’achète rien au Printemps, je vais juste sentir, en espérant qu’une vendeuse me prendra en pitié et me glissera une pièce et des échantillons.

Donc, pas d’Hermessence. En revanche, je te somme d’aller respirer Rouge Hermès, l’extravagant floriental d’Akiko Kamei (autrefois Parfum d’Hermès, 1983, jusqu’à sa refondation en 2000, le cas excessivement rare d’un parfum amélioré par une reformulation !) qui est... Et bien, c’est un Jardin de Bagatelle sous stéroïdes, tiens, où le côté « tralala promenons-nous dans des champs totalement réalistes mais zéro bouse de vache » tout en exubérance juvénile s’est changé en sensualité tapageuse façon grande bourgeoise croqueuse d’amants mais grande classe jusqu’au bout de ses longs ongles laqués de rouge. Rouge, c’est la rencontre explosive, exponentiellement florale, de la rose (Damas, pas turque, jamais rose mais rouge, rouge), du santal (laiteux à souhait, épicé, hypnotique), de l’ylang (moins été-à-la-plage, ici, que nuit torride en forêt tropicale avec risques de venin) et de l’iris, qui apporte la poudre, une poudre de riz Art Nouveau qui aurait donné des vapeurs à Zola. Le tout souligné par des épices, du cèdre, et surtout – donnant un aspect fabuleusement ténébreux au fond – de la myrte (arbuste cousin du giroflier et de l’eucalyptus).

Comme tu as parfaitement le droit d’être terrifiée par la perspective, je m’en vais également te conseiller le grand classique 24, Faubourg (créé par le grand Maurice Roucel en 1995, complètement à contre-courant de la mode gel douche & crustacés de l’époque), qui finalement est aussi un concurrent de Jardins de Bagatelle en plus classieux : naturaliste, lumineux, floral blanc et jaune, dans l’esprit il me fait beaucoup penser à L’Air du temps, justement, à la fois délicat, sensuel, joyeux, intemporel et plein de caractère. Fleur d’oranger, jasmin, iris, ylang, gardénia, jacinthe, orange et pêche, sur un lit très doux d’ambre, c’est un parfum tout en retenue mais plein de sensibilité, élégant sans affection ni hauteur, naturel sans être simpliste, un vrai bouquet savamment composé, beau et agréable. Quant à la tenue : remarquable ! Rouge Hermès est un monstre, bien entendu, mais 24, Faubourg est suffisamment opulent pour se défendre, et son évolution est passionnante. Côté popularité, il est très célèbre mais le Jeune® ne porte pas souvent Hermès. C’est dommage, parce qu’en termes de rapport qualité-prix, on reste ici dans l’abordable.

Je ne te recommanderai les Serge Lutens qu’à sentir chez Sephora : on trouve à acheter facilement d’occasion au moins à moitié prix, alors que les tarifs en boutique grimpent pathologiquement. Tom Ford et Armani sont hors de prix, et pas nécessairement supérieurs au reste. Jo Malone aussi c’est un peu cher pour ce que c’est, l’étage en-dessous : très à la mode, un peu cheap dans la confection, personnellement je ne suis pas convaincue mais c’est à voir (à sniffer) par soi-même. J’ai vu aussi que Sephora vend maintenant des Goutal (ses titres les plus populaires en tout cas, comme L’Eau d’Hadrien, très joli mais célèbre pour son évanescence, Petite Chérie le fruité dans l’air du temps, et le magnifique L’Heure Exquise, lequel fait en revanche très mature) et des Comme Des Garçons, qui sont très intéressants dans le genre conceptuel, ce qui peut être assez rebutant suivant les sensibilités, tout le monde n’aimant pas les notes d’encre ou de bitume – personnellement je crains l’aspect parfois un peu industriel de leurs compositions mais je conseille volontiers d’aller s’y pencher dessus pour s’en faire une idée, c’est probablement plus « niche » que ce qu’on sent en grande surface parfumistique d’habitude. À découvrir.

Moins générique comme recommandation, un Chanel, ou plutôt deux Chanel, mais deux facettes d’un même parfum : N°19 et N°19 Poudré. Ce dernier étant l’un de mes jus les plus chéris, tant il est vrai que dès que l’on m’ajoute de la poudre à quelque chose, je ne réponds plus de rien. N°19, c’est un peu le parfum de la résurrection pour la maison Chanel, « Coco » s’étant retirée des affaires quelque temps, puis étant revenue accompagnée de ce concurrent à l’historique N°5, portant cette fois le nombre de sa date d’anniversaire, le 19 août. Gabrielle Chanel mourut quelques semaines après le lancement de ce parfum, ce qui lui confère un rien de nostalgie vintage encore accentué par ses célèbres notes poudrées, très vertes, en fait une alliance de galbanum (le vert) et d’iris (la poudre) extrêmement élégante et sophistiquée. Le vert absolu, bien sûr, c’est l’ancien Vent Vert de Balmain (Germaine Cellier, 1947), et N°19 en est un successeur transparent, mais plus sage. Malgré tout, sa tête où les belles fleurs blanches sont précédées par la férule gommeuse (le galbanum est une gomme-résine longtemps utilisée dans des thériaques pour ses propriétés médicinales, adorée en parfumerie pour ses notes puissantes, balsamiques et herbacées) caractéristique et un peu dérangeante, et les fleurs sont posées sur un fond cuiré, boisé de cèdre, lié de vétiver et de mousse de chêne qui leur confère une espèce de fraîcheur ténébreuse envoûtante. La version véritable est bien l’eau de toilette et non l’eau de parfum, mais la déclinaison N°19 Poudré est une eau de parfum arrondie de muscs blancs, plus douce sans doute, peut-être plus sensuelle encore.

Oh ! ça me fait penser: Mémoire d’une odeur, chez Gucci. Étonnant objet d’Alberto Morillas, à la fois léger et complexe, c’est une étrangeté fascinante dont l’amertume herbeuse surprend beaucoup. En gros, c’est une camomille, très réaliste d’ailleurs, mais c’est bien plus que cela, Morillas s’étant complu à mettre avant des notes habituellement réservées au bruit de fond en parfumerie, comme l’hédione et le salicylate, de sorte que la composition est incroyablement aérienne, moelleuse comme un nuage, impressionniste. Un parti pris vraiment différent des fragrances ci-dessus évoquées, à sentir pour se faire une autre idée du parfum.

[cooperhewitt]

A Bed for a King

This post was originally published on October 9th, 2014.

An opulent bed, almost completely dominated by its hangings, pushes at the edges of the border in this etching by the French designer and architect, Daniel Marot. This design is for a state bed (lit d’apparat), a bed that was purely ceremonial rather than functional, and kept in royal palaces and aristocratic residences in the event of a visit from a monarch who would be greeted by the owner in the state bed. Marot, who emigrated to Holland after the 1685 revocation of the Edict of Nantes, is credited with bringing the French style to the Low Countries, where he worked for Prince William of Orange, and followed him as King William III to England where he continued to invoke the French decorative manner. In addition to designs for the crown, Marot also produced series of prints showcasing his designs for clocks, vases, mirrors, ceilings, carriages, and garden follies.

In this particular print, Marot applies heavy ornaments and ornate hangings, usually found on beds and boudoirs, to his fantastic design for a state bed. The canopy is completely overtaken by the drapery, braids and ribbons. At the center, two putti present a large classical mask, instead of a coat of arms. The bed skirt echoes the cresting of the tester. The headboard features an ornate design composed of two classical figures, likely Minerva as they are wearing a crested helmet and a sword, seated below a tent-like motif. Putti with baskets frame the foot of the bed. On either side of the state bed are high-back chairs and mirrors. To the right is a doorway with an equally elaborate canopy. Light streams in from unseen windows. Elements from this bed, such as the tent-motif on the headboard and the hangings of the canopy, are echoed in an ink drawing of a bed by Marot, currently conserved at the Biblioteca Comunale degli Intronati in Siena, Italy.[1]

This is one of several designs for state beds in Marot’s Second Livre d’Appartement. The state bed would have been one of the costliest items in state apartments due to the high price of the textiles. Although this bed does not appear to have been realized, there is a surviving bed in the style of Daniel Marot at the Melville House in Fife, which was originally made for George, 1st Earl of Melville in 1700. The Melville State bed still has its original hangings of Genoa velvet, Chinese silk damask linings, and silk trimmings.

However, Marot’s design can be understood as a fantasy composition rather than a blueprint for artisans. This etching thus offers a glimpse at a time when beds, alongside other items of interior furnishings, were integral aspects in courtly ceremony. While state beds in many royal palaces and country houses have recently been restored, few approach the ostentatious ambitions of this design.

  [1] As Fig. 5 in Robert C. Smith, “Five Furniture Drawings in Siena,” in Furniture History, Vol. 3, (1967): pg. 1-15.

In 2014, Cabelle Ahn was a graduate intern in the Department of Drawings, Prints and Graphic Design at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum. She received her MA in Art History from the Courtauld Institute of Art and was studying eighteenth century decorative arts at the Bard Graduate Center.

from Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum https://ift.tt/30MCSKn via IFTTT

[solisjetflights]

Expériences Sur Mesure : Personnalisez Vos Vacances En Jet Privé

En matière de voyages de luxe, les vacances en jet privé offrent un niveau inégalé de personnalisation. L’époque des itinéraires uniques est révolue. Aujourd’hui, les voyageurs ont la possibilité de personnaliser chaque aspect de leur voyage, en veillant à ce que chaque moment soit précisément conçu pour répondre à leurs désirs. De la sélection des destinations à l’élaboration d’expériences uniques, explorons le monde des vacances sur mesure en jet privé pour une escapade ultime.

#1 Concevoir l’itinéraire de vos rêves

Les vacances en jet privé offrent la liberté de concevoir un itinéraire de rêve qui corresponde à vos préférences et à vos aspirations de voyage. Que vous ayez une destination spécifique en tête ou que vous souhaitiez explorer plusieurs endroits, la flexibilité des voyages en jet privé vous permet de créer un itinéraire qui correspond à votre vision. De l’escapade sur une plage tropicale à l’exploration d’une ville culturelle, en passant par l’aventure en pleine nature, les possibilités sont infinies.

#2 Accès exclusif à des destinations éloignées

Les vacances en jet privé vous permettent d’aller au-delà des lieux touristiques habituels et de vous aventurer dans des destinations éloignées et exclusives. Qu’il s’agisse d’une île privée isolée dans les Caraïbes, d’un joyau caché dans les Alpes suisses ou d’une merveille naturelle intacte en Afrique, les charters de jets privés peuvent vous emmener dans des endroits souvent inaccessibles aux vols commerciaux. Faites l’expérience du privilège de découvrir des paradis cachés et des paysages intacts que peu de gens ont l’occasion d’explorer.

#3 hébergements de luxe adaptés à vos goûts

Les vacances en jet privé étendent les options de personnalisation à votre choix d’hébergement. Que vous préfériez les villas luxueuses en bord de mer, les penthouses opulents en ville ou les hôtels de charme intimes, les charters de jets privés peuvent organiser des hébergements qui reflètent votre style unique et vos préférences. Profitez d’équipements de classe mondiale, d’un service personnalisé et de vues à couper le souffle, afin que votre séjour soit aussi mémorable que le voyage lui-même.

#4 Créer des expériences exclusives

La beauté d’un voyage en jet privé sur mesure réside dans la possibilité d’organiser des expériences exclusives et inoubliables. Qu’il s’agisse d’un accès VIP à des sites culturels, de visites privées de musées, d’activités d’aventure exaltantes ou de rencontres dans les coulisses, ces vacances peuvent être enrichies de moments extraordinaires qui sortent de l’ordinaire. Créez des souvenirs qui dureront toute votre vie en personnalisant votre voyage avec des expériences uniques qui correspondent à vos centres d’intérêt.

#5 Délices culinaires et aventures gastronomiques

Les amateurs de cuisine peuvent se laisser tenter par un monde de délices culinaires en personnalisant leurs vacances en jet privé pour y inclure des aventures gastronomiques. Qu’il s’agisse de dîner dans des restaurants étoilés ou d’explorer les marchés locaux et de savourer des saveurs authentiques, ces vacances répondent à vos passions culinaires. Les charters de jets privés peuvent organiser des réservations dans des établissements renommés, des dîners privés dirigés par des chefs et même des expériences immersives autour de la nourriture et du vin en partenariat avec des experts culinaires de premier plan.

#6 Retraites de bien-être et de relaxation

Pour ceux qui cherchent à se ressourcer et à se détendre, les vacances en jet privé peuvent être adaptées pour inclure des retraites de bien-être et des expériences de spa. Des centres de bien-être isolés aux retraites holistiques, vous pouvez vous évader dans des lieux idylliques qui privilégient le bien-être. Laissez-vous tenter par des soins de spa rajeunissants, pratiquez la pleine conscience dans un cadre serein et rechargez votre esprit, votre corps et votre âme tout en étant entouré de tranquillité et de beauté naturelle.

#7 Sport et aventure

Les vacances en jet privé sont idéales pour les amateurs de sport et d’aventure qui recherchent des expériences riches en adrénaline. Qu’il s’agisse d’héliski dans les Alpes suisses, de pêche en haute mer dans les Caraïbes ou d’un safari en Afrique, ces vacances peuvent être personnalisées pour inclure des activités palpitantes qui répondent à votre esprit d’aventure. Les charters de jets privés peuvent organiser l’équipement, les guides et l’accès exclusif pour s’assurer que vos activités sportives sont tout simplement extraordinaires.

1. Immersion culturelle et interactions locales

Des vacances sur mesure en jet privé offrent la possibilité de s’immerger dans la culture locale et de s’engager dans des interactions significatives avec les communautés que vous visitez. Les charters de jets privés peuvent organiser des expériences authentiques telles que la rencontre avec des artisans locaux, la participation à des cérémonies traditionnelles ou l’exploration de sites historiques avec des guides compétents. Ces interactions permettent de mieux comprendre la destination et de créer des liens durables avec la culture locale.

2. Occasions spéciales et célébrations

Les vacances en jet privé sont idéales pour célébrer des occasions spéciales avec style. Qu’il s’agisse d’un anniversaire important, d’un anniversaire de mariage ou d’une escapade romantique, ces vacances peuvent être personnalisées pour créer des moments inoubliables. Les charters de jets privés peuvent organiser des surprises, des célébrations intimes ou même des demandes en mariage uniques dans des lieux à couper le souffle, en veillant à ce que votre occasion spéciale soit marquée du sceau de l’élégance et de l’exclusivité.

3. Aventures en famille

Les vacances en jet privé sur mesure répondent aux besoins et aux préférences des familles qui voyagent ensemble. De l’organisation d’activités et d’hébergements adaptés aux enfants à l’organisation de visites et d’expériences privées pour tous les âges, ces vacances garantissent que chaque membre de la famille puisse profiter du voyage. Les charters de jets privés peuvent également répondre à des exigences diététiques spécifiques, proposer des services de baby-sitting et créer un environnement sûr et confortable propice aux liens familiaux et à l’aventure.

4. Réseautage professionnel et retraites d’affaires

Les vacances en jet privé peuvent être personnalisées pour combiner affaires et loisirs, ce qui les rend idéales pour les réseaux professionnels et les retraites d’affaires. Qu’il s’agisse d’accueillir des réunions dans un cadre luxueux ou d’organiser des activités de renforcement de l’esprit d’équipe dans des lieux exclusifs, ces vacances offrent un environnement unique pour favoriser les contacts, trouver des idées et créer des expériences mémorables qui renforcent les relations professionnelles.

5. Services de conciergerie personnalisés

Les vacances en jet privé s’accompagnent de services de conciergerie personnalisés qui garantissent une gestion sans faille de tous les aspects de votre voyage. De la planification de l’itinéraire à l’organisation du transport, en passant par les réservations de restaurants et l’accès VIP aux événements, votre concierge s’occupe des détails, ce qui vous permet de vous détendre et de profiter pleinement de votre escapade personnalisée.

6. Pratiques environnementales et durables

Les compagnies d’affrètement de jets privés s’engagent de plus en plus à promouvoir la durabilité environnementale. Elles recherchent activement des pratiques et des initiatives respectueuses de l’environnement afin de minimiser leur empreinte carbone. En s’associant à des hébergements durables, en soutenant les efforts de conservation locaux et en proposant des programmes de compensation carbone, les vacances en jet privé peuvent être personnalisées pour s’aligner sur vos valeurs et contribuer à un avenir plus vert.

Les vacances sur mesure en jet privé redéfinissent le voyage de luxe en offrant une personnalisation et une adaptation inégalées. Qu’il s’agisse d’immersion culturelle, de célébrations spéciales, d’aventures en famille ou de réseautage professionnel, ces vacances répondent à divers intérêts et préférences. Avec l’aide de services de conciergerie spécialisés, vous pouvez créer un voyage vraiment unique et inoubliable qui dépasse vos attentes.

Conclusion

Les vacances en jet privé sur mesure sont l’incarnation du luxe et de l’exclusivité. En personnalisant chaque aspect de votre voyage, des destinations aux hébergements, en passant par les expériences et les activités, vous pouvez créer l’escapade ultime qui correspond à vos désirs et à vos aspirations. Les charters de jets privés se distinguent par une flexibilité et une personnalisation inégalées, garantissant que vos vacances sont le reflet de vos goûts et préférences uniques.

[casual-scriptorium]

Late Medieval Book Production

The text excerpts from this week's module are from The Golden Legend: (the lives of) St. Agatha, St. Elizabeth, St. Francis, St. George, St. Germain, St. Lucy, St. Martin of Tours, St. Mary Magdalene, St. Nicholas, and St. Thomas of Canterbury. The text was translated into English from Latin (original title of Legenda aurea) by William Caxton for his 1483 printed edition. The further seven English vernacular editions (1493, 1498, 1504, 1507, 1512, 1521, & 1527) shows this was a popular - and profitable - text during this early period of book-printing in England.

 Book-printing was a new technology of the 14th Century, and a market that exploded onto the economies of late medieval Europe. In this post, we will explore this new technology, as demonstrated in episode 5 of the "Tudor Monastery Farm" docu-series.

The Page- Papermaking

https://youtu.be/gnFi96PLlFY?t=1468

As seen here, paper was an alternative to the conventional parchment which manuscripts (hand-written books rather than those printed) had utilized for centuries. While paper was not a new technology, its market use was on the rise in this period. For example, the use of watermarks to identify the papermaker shows the importance of advertising on the object level, within this period. Note also that the pulp used in this period was comprised largely of linen; whereas modern paper is made of tree material due to the vast logging practices of the modern era, linen was a major crop of the late medieval period, used for clothmaking, ropemaking, and numerous other products of daily life.

 The Mark - Printing Press

 https://youtu.be/gnFi96PLlFY?t=2090

The printing press was first used in England in 1476, by William Caxton, a merchant whose Continental training and printing experience in Flanders and Burgundy reflects in the style and set-up of his own printing practice in London. The first English vernacular printed edition and translation of the Golden Legend is attributed to Caxton, with the notable later editions coming from his practice's successor Wynkyn de Worde. While this new technology was a time saver - printing whole books would take days rather than the handwriting process of months - is was also a delicate and finnicky machine. The stickiness of ink noted in this section of the video is due to the changes in ink technology developed for the movable metal type of the press; this new type of ink was oil-based, rather than water- based, which meant it could not slide off the metal sorts.

 The Book - Binding

https://youtu.be/gnFi96PLlFY?t=2401

Somewhat strangely to modern audiences, the binding was not always the role of the bookprinter. The binding of the book, involving sewing, shearing, and manipulating the edges of the folded and sorted pages, then covering with leather or other materials, utilized specialized skills that were not yet profitable to house within the printing studio. The distinction might be comparable to the clothmaker and tailor; one transforms raw material into finished material, which is then used to construct a finished object.

Woodcuts

Books such as the Golden Legend utilized the technology of woodcuts to print pictures in the pressing process. Woodcuts of the Nativity of Christ (1383 edition) and St. Adrian (1427 edition) are displayed in the pictures above.

Extant examples of the Golden Legend illustrate these processes. The 1483 edition was a product targeted towards the gentry and the wealthy, and shows large woodcuts and red initials to display opulence. Later editions all reduced this level of detail, making them both cheaper and easier to produce in large amounts.

Sources and Links

Coatesworth, Jessica. "The Design of the Golden Legend: English Printing in a European Context."

Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Vol. 91, Issue 2, (Sep. 2015) . DOI: https://doi.org/10.7227/BJRL.91.2.2

 Gutenburg Bible Ink (x)

The Golden Legend 1483 edition, picture (x)

The Golden Legend 1527 edition, picture (x)

Tudor Monastery Farm, episode 5 (x)

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10 Types of Modesty

Ibn-ul Qayyim (Rahimahullah) mentioned in his book Madarij us Saalikeen Vol. 2 Pg. 267 “Al Hayaa’ (i.e. modesty) is categorized into ten types:

1. The modesty of Shame:

This is similar to the modesty of Adam (Alaihis salam) when he fled in paradise after eating from the forbidden tree. Allah asked him “Are you fleeing form me O Adam because of your sin?” He said: “No my lord! Rather it is out of shame that I flee from you!”

2. The modesty that results in you realizing your shortcomings such as; the modesty of the angels, those who praise Allah day and night and never enervate. On the Day of Judgment they will say Subhanaka! (i.e. Glory be to You!) we did not worship You as You deserved to be worshiped.”

3. The modesty of Magnification:

This modesty is a result of knowledge. The extent of knowledge the slave has of his Lord, will determine how modest or shy of Him he/she is.

4. The modesty of Generosity:

This is similar to the modesty of the Prophet (Sallahu alaihi wa salam) with those people he invited to the walimah (ie marriage banquet) of Zaynab Bint Jahsh (Radiyallahu anha)and they stayed with him longer than necessary, so he stood up and walked away without saying to them “Leave!”.

5. The modesty of Embarrassment:

This is similar to the modesty of Ali Ibn Talib (Radiyallahu anhu)when he was too embarrassed to ask the Prophet himself about the pre-seminal discharge he was experiencing, because he was married to his daughter.

6. The modesty of Low self-worth:

This is similar to the modesty of the slave in front of his lord when he asks Him for his needs, knowing that he doesn’t deserve it. In a narration of Bani Israel Musa (Alaihis salam) said: “O lord, a need or desire of this life arises and I am too modest to ask You for it O lord!” So Allah responded to him by saying: “Ask me for what whatever you like, whether it is the salt for your dough or the fodder for your herd!” And it is possible that this is because of two things:

7. The modesty of Love:

This is the modesty of the one who loves another, and when he thinks in his heart of the one he loves during his absence, his modesty for him is greater than what he feels for him in his presence and he doesn't even know why. There is no doubt that the love of a person has a stronger and more magnificent authority over the individual than the authority of the one who conquers the body physically. And because of this, kings and elite authority wonder in amazement about creation and how they are conquered because of the love they have for someone greater than they are conquered by power and physical authority. We asked Sheikh ul Islam Ibn Taymiyah (Rahimahullah) about this issue, and I mentioned this to him and he just smiled and didn’t say anything.

8. The modesty of Servitude:

This is the type of modesty that is mixed with love and fear while witnessing that there is no perfection in his worship or servitude to the One he worships. And the slave acknowledges that his Lord is greater and more opulent than what he is offering of worship, so his servitude to Allah causes him to be modest of Him, and there is no way around this.

9. The modesty of honor and dignity:

The modesty of the noble and prestigious soul. if he does something that is beneath his caliber, either by exerting himself or doing some random act of good, he is modest despite what he has exerted of himself with a type of modesty that is honorable and dignified, and there are two reasons for this :

10. The modesty of an individual regarding himself:

This is the modesty of the noble, honorable and dignified individual due to him being pleased with the fact that he has some shortcomings. He prostrates himself out of modesty as if he has two personalities. He is modest with one regarding the other and this is the most complete form of modesty. If the slave is modest regarding himself then he is more likely to be modest in front of others.